Tired of the Game
by AgnesBriot1969
Summary: In 2012 rumor as well as an ancient Maya calendar say the end of the world is close. If it is true it will not only affect mankind but it will also affect the game and the immortals fighting until just one of them remains. Tired of chopping heads and facing other immortals Methos returns to a place where to he once accompanied an old friend of his summing up his life.
1. Prologue: Tired of the Game

**Disclaimer: **

**I do not own the characters, storylines or quotations of the 'Highlander' universe I use.  
**

**I do own the OCs and the storylines I invented by myself.  
**

**This story is not meant to be published for a commercial purpose, unless the owner of the 'Highlander' universe would grant me such a permit.**

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**Summary:  
**

**In 2012 rumor as well as an ancient Maya calendar say the end of the world is close. If it is true it will not only affect mankind but it will also affect the 'Game' and the immortals fighting until just one of them remains. Tired of chopping heads and facing other immortals Methos returns to a place where to he once accompanied an old friend of his, summing up his life.**

**The rating is 'T' at the moment but it may change to 'M' somewhen later on.  
**

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**Prologue: Tired of the Game**

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_Byron: "Do you want a tombstone that says, 'He Lived For Centuries' or do you want one that says, 'For Centuries He Was Alive'?"  
_

_Methos: "You're not listening to me. I don't want a tombstone."**  
**_

_(Highlander: TV series - from episode 'The modern Prometheus')_

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**Austria – The former province Noricum – Present (Summer 2012)**

Excavations and ruins are all being left from a once beautiful, flourishing Roman junction and trading spot lying close to a meeting of two stream courses - embedded within a picturesque valley, surrounded and sheltered by high mountains and narrow chasms.

Back then, when the Romans still used to rule the biggest part of the known world, it was filled with life.

Ancient woods, fertile fields and fruitful soil provided its inhabitants with a not even small amount of wealth.

Beside this it was a place worth to retire to, to forget about everything one felt troubled by.

An esthetically built Roman villa once nestled up to the mellow hillside I just climbed up.

Old trees shielded this property from curious eyes and its wells and fountains got fed by a spring of fresh and clear water.

The place held a wide view including the whole valley, the town and its amazing surroundings.

The place was beautiful.

It still is...

It belonged to a man I would call a friend, a cynic, a satirist, an aesthete and so did the impressive villa – already long before the ancestors of those who were digging for its relics were born...

In a different time – two thousand years ago...

What is it leading me back to this place?

Right now?

After having not thought of it for a rather long time?

Maybe it's due to the rumor?

Exactly that rumor, telling us the end of the world is supposed to come, is supposed to be closer than we're aware of...

Once again!

Once again uncertainty yields bizarre results, and once again a few are able to stir the fear of those up, who are afraid of everything, and who are willing to believe in the fact the downfall of men is supposed to be closer than ever this time.

Well, some things will never change – so it always was and so it will always remain.

This time is not the first time and it will not be the last time making those who are afraid of death pay the highest price just to escape their nevertheless upcoming end – whenever this may be.

Good times for charlatans and religious zealots – not to mention all those experts having no idea what's really going on out there.

So the end of the world is supposed to be close.

The end of the world...

Sounds strange to me...

What meaning could it have to someone time itself has no meaning to?

What meaning could it have to someone not counting in years or decades but in centuries or even millennia?

What meaning could it have to someone whose memories are dated back that far from today that their beginning is nothing to him but a blurred hint of remembrance?

What meaning could it have to someone who once had been the end of the world himself...?

None...!

It's just a blink of an eye...

Unless... Unless the old guys back then – the Maya – should be right. Then – of course – it would be without doubt that the end of the world would affect him as well.

Because, most probably the end of the world would mean the end of the 'Game' as well...

The 'Game'...

An extraordinarily strange and admittedly inoffensive paraphrase of the one and only fact that apparently grown up people – immortals living unrecognized amongst their mortal fellows – are constantly on a hunt for each other just to fight each other till death with archaic weapons in godforsaken lonely places until one of them takes the others head.

Sounds weird, doesn't it?

Yes, it does and, yes, it is...

The 'Game' – to me it's rather a morbid alteration of a perpetual massacre warranted by its rules settled somewhere back in ancient times – follows just one single aim:

In the end there will be one, only one survive – for the collective good, for the good of the world...

So it says, so it's conveyed, so are its rules.

I am part of said 'Game'.

I'm part of the world.

Since about more than five thousand years...

But does this mean I have to believe in it and its rules?

Because. I'm forced to take part in this 'Game'?

Because. I love this world I live in – including all its beauty and even its blemishes?

Because, I'm immortal?

I saw things, I experienced things meant to be beyond the imagination of every mortal I'm surrounded by.

I came across uncountable people whose names I do not forget for just one single reason, because I decided to write them down since within those days back then within a dark and blurred past writing got invented...

In Mesopotamia – also known as the cradle of mankind...

I committed things – things beyond words, things I neither can expect forgiveness for nor will I get it for my whole life. As long as it will linger...

I'm tired of the 'Game' I just take part in if there is no choice left to avoid it.

I'm tired of the killing, of chopping heads because both ruled my life – and the lives of so many others – for much too long.

Whoever it will be winning the 'Game' some day – I do neither own the ambition nor do I own the fire to be the one holding the world's fate in his hands in the end.

To me it's quite enough to remain the one I am – a cynic - well there are some guys out there not getting tired to call me a pain in the ass - a human being amongst other human beings.

I'm just one amongst others, I'm like them – possibly with an insignificant little secret...

But – hey – I love my life...

Yes...

But the hard I may try I can't withdraw from the 'Game' – I'm bound to it.

I cannot escape my memories, much less all those memories of those who once stepped in my way or in my life.

Mostly they are memories of other immortals, bound to me, having been intimately connected with me or still are...

To count in centuries or in millennia means to carry tons of memories with you although you're not always aware where they belong to. And sometimes they tend to catch up with you if you're not really prepared for them. Mostly they do if it's not really the best point of time.

This applies the more if they are not your own memories but those of that kind of guy you're not even hell-bent of being reminded of.

Nevertheless, what applies for all those memories applies to all ever touching our lives.

Our memories are what makes us the one we are – equal of what kind they are:

Good, bad, sweet, bitter...

Standing here, at this place, amongst the excavated ruins of an ancient Roman villa, I cannot remember anything which troubled me. The whole place is filled with calm and pleasing memories:

Of this place, of the man who took me here and taught me his sight of the world he lived in...

I guess one part of the one I am today found a lot of himself while staying here.

Another part of myself I found when memories of another time and place caught up with me, of a time and a place when I was completely different...

They were the memories of Cassandra, who's not able to forget or forgive what I did to her.

They were the memories of Kronos who was not willing to accept what I changed into and what I became.

Both have or had not the slightest idea how coming across them changed my life even twice...

Our second encounter convinced me that I'm the one now I want to be, that I'm not only the cynic I love to be, but that the one I desperately tried to forget about also belongs to me.

I'm neither black nor white, I'm made of shades and if my ancient 'I' would not be kept inside of me I would never have survived that long...

Well, of course, I was not aware of all this when fate – was it fate? – lead us all to our first encounter which left me – in its aftermath – with just one wish:

Becoming someone different...

Who am I then?

The Wanderer? The Warrior? The Lover? Like MacLeod?

Or am I still the watcher, the myth and my own conscience?

The truth is supposed to be caught in the middle of it all.

My name is Methos and my story begins within a time back in history when a life had no meaning, when a man lived and died through a sword and when only a few knew my real name...


	2. The First Doubt

**The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse**

**Chapter 1: The First Doubt**

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_Methos (to Cassandra): "I am Methos. You live to serve me. You live because I wish it. And you stay alive as long as you please me."_

_(Highlander: TV series - from episode 'Comes a Horseman')_

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**Bronze Age – ca. 2000 B. C.**

There was a time back in the ancient days of civilization where people asked themselves if Death might have a face, and if he would have one, how it was supposed to look like. It was an easy question, and much easier it was to answer it, because Death in these times not only had a face, but used to answer this question in person.

Death had a face and whoever managed to cast an eye upon it hesitated that one single second too long it needed to defend himself, that one single second it needed to wipe him away from earth's face – because, what hid itself under a terrifying mask was neither an unsightly antic nor was it deformed in any other kind of way.

Quite the contrary...

Inhaling their last breath, his victims stared into the pretty and suntanned face of an apparently still young man who used to cover its right side with blue paint when he went out to another one of his sanguineous raids.

There was neither hate nor cruelty to spot within his soft brown eyes, but his gaze hid a strange fire and not even his companions had been able to figure out which kind of source it was keeping it burning.

His fine carved lips mostly wore the hint of a derisive smile.

He used not to speak much and hid his thoughts even from his fellows.

If he took the hood of his cape off, his untamed black hair fell down his back and over his shoulders in thick strands.

Oh yes, Death had a face back then in the ancient times of civilization – my face...

Only a few survived looking at it, and who did, ended up as a slave – and I used not to be alone if it came to raid, pillage and plunder. There were four of us spreading fear, dread and fright where ever we turned up, and upon two continents everyone ran scared as soon as he or she got aware of the first sight of us.

We were known under a lot of names, but one of them got burned into the consciousness of every man, woman or child who came to hear it:

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse...

It would be a lie if I would suggest it did not cause me a certain satisfaction back then to sense the fear of all those people and to see the horror within their eyes if they looked at me knowing I would be the last thing they would ever see – the more, because I knew no one would have been able to really harm me seriously as long as I kept my head upon my shoulders...

At the beginning of my second life – after having become immortal – I knew only less about what immortality actually was about or what the meaning of the 'Game' was and how it affected the life of every immortal, but I had an instinctive sense what the feeling was about when I came across other immortals. I knew my kind from the very beginning...

However, the true secret of what happened to me if I took my enemies' heads – the secret of the quickening – still remained hidden from me. I just let it happen and it shouldn't get a change until I crossed paths with another immortal.

One who was totally opposite from me, one who turned me from Methos into Death...

At the point of time when I met Kronos first I already had lived a thinkable long life, but whatever might have happened to me up to that day still left me remaining the one I always had been – the son of nomad who longed for living in peace without attracting attention. I never thought of spreading fear or spilling the blood of innocent before...

Kronos on the other hand had just learned about his immortality quite recently, whereat 'quite recently' here had the meaning of as measured by the span of life having passed by since I returned to life.

He was a born leader by nature and owned everything a leader needed:

He was charismatic, persuasive, ruthless and down-and-dirty to the core.

Before we crossed paths he was supposed of rambling all around the whole known world – aimless and at random – showing up here and there and now and then – always accompanied by two other immortals known as Caspian and Silas.

They used to plunder, pillage and kill where ever it was necessary, where ever it was not necessary and later on just for their own pleasure.

Kronos never asked for permission, he just took whatever he wanted to – equal if it was a girl or any other prey he thought to be worth taking it. He did not suffer contradiction and who ever hoped for clemency with him came to know soon that he obviously had never heard this word before.

Therefore it cost me some effort to convince him that it would definitely be a big mistake to take my head off from me that rashly and that early.

I had always been known to be clever and what I had to offer obviously quickened Kronos curiosity and flattered his vanity, because, contrary to him and his two comrades, I owned something none of them did:

The witty and sly mind to do the right thing at the right point of time whenever it was necessary.

This, the gift of foresight – it wasn't exactly the same, but let's name it foresight – the talent of finding the fitting words within the right moment, and the fine sense of knowing when to draw the necessary conclusions admittedly saved my head much more often back then than my skills with the sword did – and they established my good reputation of being a well skilled strategist.

However, I convinced Kronos of supposedly being of use for him – and he could be dead certain about my loyalty against him. He owned it from that day on and he owned me.

If I would have fought against him I would have lost my head and so the plundering, pillaging and killing trio became a quartet. Deadly and remorseless...

Kronos was the leader.

I was the strategist.

Silas and Caspian?

They were neither the first nor the second.

Caspian was a strong warrior who was abnormally skilled if it came to slaughter his victims. He owned a distinct addiction to sadism and used to strike before asking questions – if at all. He was also the one I never really trusted as long as this alliance endured, but although he must have guessed or even must have known it he never questioned my plans.

Silas was a giant provided with the body of a warrior and the brain of a child. He was the same deadly and naive. Mentally ill they would name it a bundle of centuries later. He knew no scruples if he killed a human being, but if it came to deal with animals he turned into the most gentle person ever to imagine.

I often asked myself if that may have been one of many reasons making me stay with those guys. Because I felt responsible for him?

Barely...

It had been just because – at that time – I liked what we were and what we did.

Well, however, as different as we may have been, thinking about our characters and skills, we nevertheless were at one with each other whenever we were out for a hunt – we have always been brothers.

To all those we assaulted we were nothing different but death on the backs of our horses.

For years, for decades, for centuries...

Whatever we carried together from our raids we shared in equal share and whatever kind of scruples I may have had in the beginning of this new part of my life I either lost them somewhen while causing bloodshed or they holed up somewhere deep within my innermost where they could hide from me and what I had become.

At that time I never had a single hint of a doubt with what I did.

Not yet...

* * *

The camp lying in our way today was in no way different from so many others we had plundered and assaulted throughout the bygone decades, and so it happened that none of us expected something extraordinary to happen.

Just a handful of tents, not more than about three dozen people carrying their little properties to and fro around the desert, knowing their cattle and some valueless bauble would always remain their only belongings.

None of them was a warrior and none of them was in any kind of the words meaning special.

But, no, one was...

This squalid camp hid something we would never have expected amongst shabby tents and goat dung. Something which felt the same strange and familiar.

It was dead certain that an immortal hid amongst the nomads. One who had not come to know yet of what kind he or she was. One who was still amongst the living...

"Stay away from here!" The man who owned the courage to step in our way knew who we were, and he probably even knew what we were. All he owned he was surrounded by – his clothes, his tent, some goats – but although he was poor he owned something much more valuable: He was proud and fearless: "What do you want? There is nothing of value in this camp that could be of interest for you!"

Of course, it was what Kronos was used to hear and it was not meant to impress him. A smirk upon his lips he took off his mask and beheld the stranger – slightly amused about this poor try to spare these despicable figures within this camp from death.

Somewhen he bent down on the man and replied: "Is that so? Well, then you all will die!"

The stranger changed a nearly unnoticed gaze with the woman standing by his side and she obviously understood what he wanted to tell her during this voiceless dialogue. Her eyes widened within a sudden awareness and she shook her head in a mix of defiance and desperation then she made some hesitant steps towards Kronos and looked straight into his face. If she was afraid she managed very well to not let anyone notice it.

"No", she dared to answer Kronos back: "You must not do this! You can't do this!"

"You err! I can and I will do this", was all he said when he drew his sword within a split second and stabbed the girl.

She did not scream nor did she sigh. All she did was to let out a gasp of surprise. The same moment we all knew what had happened. Up till now we had been convinced that the shaman was the immortal, but now we got the answer to our not asked questions.

The girl was the immortal – and when she would return to life she would find out that her camp, her people and the life she had led up till today were gone forever. She would be the only one surviving this day...

Whatever led me to do it I decided this girl to be my only part of the prey while my companions started to go on finishing our bloody business and searching for those few values they hoped to find here.

When we prepared to leave this bleak place about an hour later there was no hint to spot any more that there once had been a camp. Fire and flames told their own story to all who wanted to listen to it...

* * *

The girl gasped for air and blinked into the sun to accustom her eyes to it, when I rolled her out of the carpet I had wrapped her in. Surprise, confusion and disbelief got shown upon her face and got mirrored within her eyes while she had a look around the camp: "Where am I?"

Her gaze found me and she followed every single move I made while I let go the hood of my cape and took off the mask. She narrowed her eyes skeptically then they widened again.

"Surprised?" I asked her in amusement while she stared at me obviously wondering about the fact not to face a monster but a young man who seemed to be not much older than she was herself.

Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something but she kept her thoughts. Instead, all she asked was: "Who are you? Why did you take me here? And where are my people?"

I'm sure she already knew the truth, but she had still hope left.

Hope!

A delusive feeling, but merely guessing the truth is not as painful as to feel the emptiness when you come to realize that your guess really became true. When certainty grasps for you with its icy claws and your hopes betray you in the end...

"You want to know where they are?" I reached out my hand to help her with getting up. Hesitantly she grabbed it still not quite sure what to think about me and everything she found herself surrounded by.

To see that last spark of hope and confidence shimmering within her eyes was nearly unbearable – even for me – but I had seen it before that often – within so many other pairs of eyes and upon so many other faces – that I wasn't able any more to feel anything while watching her.

So it didn't cause me the slightest hint of pity when I pointed at the collection of fresh trophies – which meant skulls and bones – unveiled in the middle of the camp: "Look!"

I had expected her to cry, to scream or to faint, but not that her pain turned into profound hatred within just a split second.

She lunged at me absolutely willing to pay me back what I did to her and to the tribe she had lived with. It took me some effort to keep her from doing it and while I held her within a firm grip I said: "Don't dare to try it again! It's of no advantage for you!"

She gave up resistance and whispered: "So it's true then?" Her gaze out of her lively eyes lost its shimmer and her voice was soundless: "They're all dead?"

"You better come to terms with it. Better now than never. Listen to me carefully. I am Methos and from now on you are mine. Got me?"

She did not answer to it, but raised her head and hissed: "Why didn't you kill me as well?"

Her voice had been just a hoarse whisper and I wasn't able to hide a smile. So I responded close to her ear: "Oh, believe me, we did..."

I released her and her gaze wandered from me back to her dress and the cut Kronos' sword had caused when he had stabbed her. She shook her head in disbelief: "But, how is this possible?"

"Let's say those of your kind are hard to kill. If it's time you will understand what's meant, but until it is as far as we will spend a lot of time having fun together. Take my promise..."

"Never", she spat: "You miserable bastard!"

When she tried to attack me once again I slapped her and she collapsed to the ground. There was still no hint of tears welling up or begging for mercy within her eyes. All I was able to spot within them was the sparkling of pure disgust.

She had lost everything, she did die and she returned to life as an immortal, all within one single day, but none of this had been able to break her strong mind and her pride.

Not weakness but hate was in her eyes and if she had already been in the know how to kill me I would have had no doubt that she would have tied it

What indeed fascinated me was that beyond all this grief and hatred was hiding something totally different – a deep passion – and as much as she tried to keep it hidden from me the more I was able to sense that it was there.

This girl was neither unsightly nor was she dimwitted. Quite the contrary...

Her long dark strands enwrapped her like a cloud of hair, her dark eyes were full of life and emotion, her lips were a single invitation to taste them and her dress of rough linen barely hid her female attractions.

To behold her, to stay that close with her, the struggle I had with her – it all lightened my desire and I would have loved to taste the price I captured today right on the spot. To feel the soft skin of hers underneath my fingers promised an extraordinarily delightful pleasure.

I wasn't even able to think about relishing her because Silas and Caspian started fighting again when it came to share the prey and just when I promised Caspian that I would kill him if I had to, Kronos reminded us that everything got shared in equal share.

If at this point of time I had already known what meaning this would have to me somewhen later I would have thought over a lot of decisions I made...

* * *

"You don't have to walk!" I brought my horse close to her side, but Cassandra just raised her head, presented me with a disdainful look and went on walking. "C'mon!" I made another try: "Don't act the fool! This will take some more days than one! And I dare to make a guess that even if you're used to walk this won't be a pleasure! So, what do you say?"

I offered her my hand and after shooting me another frowning look and mumbling something that sounded more or less like a curse she finally took it and let it happen that I dragged her up behind me on the back of my horse.

Several weeks had passed by and meanwhile there prevailed a kind of truce between me and Cassandra. She did make some more tries to escape but I always caught her and took her back to the camp where ever we took a rest for some days. No one bothered us or asked what was going on – not even Kronos.

He, Silas and Caspian had enough women who caused them pleasure and so they were obviously not interested in the fact that it completely satisfied me to stay alone with my pretty immortal slave.

Well, the fact that Cassandra stopped trying to kill me somewhen did indeed not mean that she trusted me or even that she had forgiven me.

Paradoxically it was that she the same like me seemed to enjoy the seldom conversations we had besides her attempts to escape and her attempts to kill me.

"Admit it, if you could you would throw me off the horse and leave me to die right on the spot. Am I right?" This time I was teasing her.

"As you know I can't!" I heard her answer from behind me.

"Sounds as if you feel sorry for not being able to."

"Should I not?"

"Still that unforgiving?" It sounded much more stern than I wanted it to.

"Wouldn't you be as well if someone would have killed all those you once loved?"

"Maybe..."

Her words sounded like an echo within my head and a nearly forgotten pain started to fill my heart. I knew very well what she felt, what she went through, maybe better than she would have supposed. I knew how it felt to lose everything. I went through an experience like that by myself many years ago.

I had begged on my knees that the Egyptian mercenaries the Pharaoh had sent after us might spare my love from getting killed. I had to watch how they laughed while they did it anyhow – just because she and her tribe had been Bedouins.

I kept silent for a while, tried to get rid of the pain these memories caused me, when Cassandra asked me: "What do you want from me?"

"A rhetorical question?"

"Just a question..."

I had a thought about it and decided that the only answer I could give her would definitely not match with what she possibly wanted to hear from me. Keeping a pretty slave by my side during cold nights out in the desert was not really unwelcome and...

"Well then?" She touched my shoulder: "I'm waiting!"

"Let's change the issue." I cleared my throat and added: "Rumor says you're a healer. Is it true?"

"Why should you be interested in it? What meaning could healing have to you?" She asked: "I always thought it causes you far more pleasure to kill others..."

"What if I would like to learn it?"

"To heal?" For the first time since I made her my slave something like amusement sounded within her voice and within her words. I supposed a smile to be shown upon her lips.

"Why not!"

"You're Death!"

"Not always!" I paused for a spilt second and added: "Not now. I'm Methos now..." She didn't give me a reply and I hesitated before I asked: "You hate me, do you?"

"It's not that easy", Cassandra answered with a low voice.

"Why not? I – well, we – burnt down your village, killed your people. I made you my slave. So, I would hate me if I were in your place. Seems to be not that complicated. Why do you think it is?"

She took a deep breath before she tried to explain: "You're right, you and these bastards over there destroyed everything I loved, even my life. You forced me to keep you company. So, yes, therefore I should hate you and I do. I hate what you did to me and my people, I hate what you do to others and I hate what you are..."

"Ah, I see. So it's easy, then. You hate me, because of what I am..."

"I hate Death!" Cassandra interrupted me.

"Death?"

"Yes!"

"Not Methos, then?"

"No!"

"But you know..."

"I hate what you are or what you become if you're going to hide your face behind this terrible mask. You're not the same then. It's not..."

"Me?"

She kept silent behind me and left me a bit puzzled.

What was it she wanted to tell me? That there was a difference between Death and Methos? That without the mask I was different?

I let out a soundless sigh and said: "If Methos would be the one who asks you to teach him how to heal – what would your answer be?"

She hesitated for a while then she replied while she wrapped her arms round me for not to fall off the horse: "If I teach you how to heal will you explain to me why I'm unable to die?"

"If what I can tell you about it will be enough for you..."

The only answer I still got was the feeling when her cheek nestled up against my shoulder...

* * *

Time had no meaning to us and so it was difficult to say if weeks or months passed by since we had our little conversation on the back of a horse.

The fact was that there was a kind of silent agreement between me and Cassandra since we had our little conversation on the back of my horse.

She did neither make another try to escape, nor did she make another try to kill me out of an ambush since then and I started to remember whenever we spent the night together that it was much more satisfying to hear her sigh my name instead of looking into her terrified eyes.

Cassandra taught me a lot about healing, about herbs and plants, their effects, their dangers and how to handle them.

These were the days – aside from raids, bloodshed and death – which made me miss something of what I wasn't quite aware what it was at this point of time.

I knew it to be there but I wasn't able to name it.

There was a distant longing somewhere inside me and it felt so far away and out of reach that I pushed every thought about it aside as soon as it reached my troubled surface.

Nevertheless, said longing was there and the more often I felt it, the more intimate the familiarity got I and Cassandra shared, the more often I realized the mistrust which seemed to grow within Kronos.

I've no idea if he ever trusted me. I for my part never did. The truth is I feared him and he knew that I did...

Of course, he noticed that I started to change – and I simply was that stupid to think he might not.

I had started to bring gifts along for Cassandra from our raids – dresses, jewels and other little values. In return the scent of roses, jasmine or violets, fresh water and sweet fruits waited for me when I returned to her.

She could have dismissed all those little donations I presented her with, instead she dressed up as if she was waiting for her lover...

"You're in a hurry?"

Kronos' voice tore me out of my thoughts unexpectedly when we returned to our camp after having spent several days away from it. Something lurking was to spot within his eyes, but I got not aware of it until it was too late as I had to find out later...

"Just because I want to get out of the saddle." I replied.

I was tired and what I was much less in the need for at this moment was a distrustful and bad tempered Kronos. He was both: "Is that so? Then it has nothing to do with the fact that you are supposed to be expected? No?"

"What do you want to tell me?"

"Just that I hope you've not forgotten about us sharing our prey in equal share. Always..."

His gaze followed Cassandra who left my tent just within this moment. Her white dress, the small golden belt round her waist and her golden bracelet were shimmering within the light of the sinking sun – and the way Kronos beheld her did not please me.

"How could I forget about it", I asked him: "there's no day without you reminding us of it. Aren't you?"

"Oh, we'll wait and see, brother..."

I felt his gaze following me and I was certain that all those strains between us would unload soon. To think about it scared me but I was determined not to avoid it.

Not this time – at least that was what I thought...

Cassandra welcomed me with a smile, a goblet of spiced wine and a carafe full of fresh water. While I took a draft I beheld her form over the edge of my goblet – no I definitely had not in mind to spend this night arguing over valueless stuff with my companions.

"Tired?" She asked.

Her question sounded honest and there was no reason anymore to doubt her. Therefore I closed my eyes with a sigh and replied with a hint of a smile upon my lips when I opened them again: "Tired!"

"So it was a long ride then?"

"It was."

I took another draft, but even if the wine was good it did not want to taste. My thoughts were everywhere just not where they possibly should have been.

Maybe this was the moment where I should have given in to a wish I already kept deep inside me for a rather long time – it was the wish to leave all of this behind.

Of course I relished to stay free and unchallenged without owing something to anyone, able to do whatever I wanted to...

But, was it really that way? Was I really free?

With every sunset I doubted it a bit more.

A gentle touch brought me back to the here and now. It was Cassandra.

She sat by my side – a bowl filled with water on her knees and a soft piece of cloth within her hand – and started to wash away the sweat and the dust from my hands and my face.

"Something wrong?"

She beheld me - a hint of concern within her eyes - but I just shook my head: "It's nothing. Just go on..."

I closed my eyes and surrendered to her warm and tender touch. Of course, I knew I was vulnerable within this moment but I trusted her and there was nothing else I longed for but her closeness and her caress.

When I opened my eyes again I knew I desired her.

Not as my prisoner, not as my slave! Solely as the woman she was, waiting for me, dressing up for me, sighing my name...

I reached out my hand and let my fingers slip over her cheek She let it happen and did not shy back when I buried my hand within her hair. All she did was watching me out of her soft brown eyes like she never did before, and within this moment I knew there was more within our world but to raid, plunder and pillage.

I was not meant to taste her lips that night and I was not meant to tell her what I should have told her long before...

"Well, brother, I've to admit I underestimated you!" It was Kronos and his words dripped from scorn. He stood within the entrance of my tent and I had not the slightest idea how long he might have. But from now on there was no doubt any more that he knew what was going on between me and Cassandra. I changed a rapid look with her and heard when Kronos added: "So you really succeeded with taming this little wild cat. I never thought you would after all her tries to kill you." The cold within his voice did not match the scorn of his words.

"I don't understand..." I tried to act the fool.

"Oh yes, brother, you do! But maybe it's something different. There's gossip all around, you know", he took one of the peaches out of the bowl standing upon the table and went on: "And this gossip says that life is sweet within Methos' tent. The sweetest fruits, the best wine, flowers..."

"Who spreads that?" I got up and made a try to get Cassandra out of his sight.

"Rumor, brother, here and there." The scorn suddenly changed into an icy cold without any warning: "Don't tell me that it is not true. That she's not keeping the fruit and the wine for you! Only for you!"

"She keeps nothing for me! There is nothing within my tent you won't be able to find within yours as well."

"True? However, it's obvious that she prefers your company. Strange, isn't it, brother? Because there are a lot of others around here." He shot me a glare and added: "So, tell me, brother, why is this so? Maybe because you have a special interest in her? Yes?"

"No!"

I felt Cassandra staring at my back. I felt how she froze to the spot. I felt the panic welling up within her – and in front of me I saw Kronos' contented grin. This couldn't be real. The sweet moment was gone and so was everything we had.

I betrayed her, because I was – what? A coward?

I heard Kronos' next words like coming through a thick veil of pain, remorse and dying love: "Good! Then it's time to share the prey now!"

He pushed me aside, grasped Cassandra with her wrist and dragged her out of my tent without regarding her protest or her fear – and I did not move. I just let it happen...

"Methos! Please! Don't let this happen! Methos!"

She cried out for me and I let this moment pass by where I could have done the right thing within the right moment.

Without knowing when I took it I suddenly felt the peach within my hand. It felt so soft and gentle like her skin but it was neither as warm as her skin nor was it able to cause me the same pleasure.

Kronos knew that I would not dare to step in his way when he would come to claim her for himself, he also knew that I would not dare to take the risk of loosing my head if I would challenge him and, of course, he knew that humiliating her the same moment meant humiliating me...

I nearly believed I could feel the pain as well she would have to suffer...

I did not know, yet, that I would lose much more soon than my head was worth...

* * *

Somewhen in the middle of the night I woke up from out of a fitful doze due to loud screaming. No one needed to tell me what happened I just knew it.

Cassandra had stabbed Kronos after he had pushed her back into hell on earth. For one short moment I kept the hope she might return to me, but my hope betrayed me like it betrayed so many others since time began...

When I saw her stumbling out of Kronos' tent, running away from the camp straight towards the desert I knew she would hate me or – much worse – condemn me...

She did both, but she was free...

I was not...


	3. The Source of Life

******The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse**

**Chapter 2: The Source of Life**

* * *

_Methos: "Would I lie to you?"_

_Kronos: "Have you ever done anything else?"_

_(Highlander: TV series - from episode 'Revelation 6:8')_

* * *

**Bronze Age – ca. 1700 B. C.**

Was this all?

Was this really all?

All the world was supposed to give to me or what I was supposed to give to the world?

Death and subversion? Blood and tears? Anguish and fright?

There was no one but me to answer these questions and I had none. None being able to satisfy my longing for getting the right one.

Dense smoke and smolder raised from the oasis having been a place of rest and quietness throughout many centuries. A sanctuary, a shelter for all those who spent days and weeks crossing the desert and who longed for sleep, for shadow and for cool and fresh spring water.

It was an Arcadian place of some unique beauty, peaceful, and of a somehow peculiar magic – if this was the right term to describe it.

In the North the widespread glade was bordered by steep rugged rocks, where also the two springs were to find feeding the narrow rivulet which streamed the valley. Within the middle of the oasis it swelled and built a pond until it vanished midst the desert after a few miles.

In the South the glade got sheltered from the desert by gently rising hills building a natural shield against the wind and the sand with their bushes and grasses.

There were only two possibilities to reach the valley with its fruitful scrubland, its palm-trees and its lush green. One from the East and one from the West – both leading through narrows and over caved paths. As soon as these last hindrances were overcome the beautiful place made every tired wanderer nearly forget that he still found himself midst the desert and surrounded by barren landscapes.

Whoever came to this valley just carried this one wish with him – the wish of being able to stay here for a while without being forced to leave in a hurry.

Caravans used to come and go exchanging information and novelties, sometimes even goods and supplies. They shared the oasis and its welcomed comforts with roving around nomads and Bedouins and it never came to skirmish or disputes worth to mention them.

This place meant water and water meant to survive...

At least that was my memories provided me with.

It was not my first time coming to this wonderful place, but as it seemed it would be the last time today.

The grass, the bushes and even some of those age-old palm-trees burst into flames and the thick clouds of smoke reached high above the hills surely visible many miles from far out of the desert. This place was no shelter, was no sanctuary any more...

Within just one day it had turned into a deadly trap and instead of a flourishing paradise, the whole place would become a kind of the forecourt of hell. Hostile to life for years.

And I did nothing to prevent it...

* * *

I don't know anymore how long I sat within the sand somewhere midst the hills – I guess it must have been for hours. Hours which felt like a kind of eternity.

A strange comparison, isn't it, thinking of how long my life had already lasted up till that day.

Be it as it may, it felt like an eternity.

Most likely neither Kronos, nor Silas or Caspian actually noticed that I somewhen made my exit from killing, raid and pillage.

Most likely they were still busy with what they – each of them in his own way – always did best:

The erasure of life...

Of course, I don't want to declare untrue that I also had my part in playing this game of death and murder but when a memory found its way up to my already troubled surface I had to leave. It reminded me of the fact that this was not the first time this wonderful place drowned in blood. The only difference was that my people had been the ones who died here back then...

It was exactly this place where I once had lost everything having had a meaning to me.

It was exactly this place where the Egyptian mercenaries sought us out – me, the nomads who once admitted me when I wandered about around the desert and her, the one I once had loved.

It was exactly this place where I had to witness my love die – helpless, dying as well, but doomed to return to life, to find her lying in a pool of blood, her broken eyes still wet from her tears...

A long time ago – so many years that all the memories I had left of her deep inside my innermost started to blur although I desperately tried to keep them.

The memories slowly vanished but the pain they caused me still remained and it found its way into my heart and forced me to have a look into the mirror it held in front of me. I knew what I would come to see.

I had become myself what I loathed to the core back then.

Death! Death on a horse!

The caravan we assaulted today, all the lifeless bodies whose blood soaked the ground of the oasis – both being not the bloodthirsty work of a hired band of Egyptian mercenaries.

Not this time...

This time it was my work and the work of those three men I named brothers...

'I hate what you are or what you become if you're going to hide your face behind this terrible mask. You're not the same then anymore…'

Cassandra's words came to my mind – again and again. Since she took flight from out of Kronos' tent. It was too late, now, to ask for her forgiveness but it wasn't too late to...

"May I ask what you are supposed to do up here, at this hour?" A shadow fell upon my face. I wasn't able to recognize who it was because the sun abacinated me, but it wasn't necessary to see the speaker. Due to this acid sarcasm and the dangerous undertone always hidden within his words I would be able to make Kronos out amongst thousands. He gave me a smirk and went on: "Tell me, brother, that it is just for appreciating this unique sight you left us to hole yourself up here."

"What else could be the reason to do so? It's a sight to behold. A rather rare one, you agree, don't you? It's up to be remembered for quite a long time I dare to make a guess..."

This was without much doubt the truth, yet, I thought...

"So you're not here because your conscience got in your way again? No?"

"Don't try talking about something you've not the slightest idea about what it is about." I raised my gaze and looked straight into his face: "Or do you really want to make me believe you're aware of the word's meaning?"

"Why burden yourself with something having the meaning of weakness?" He shrugged and added: "All I ask myself is – since when are you supposed to have one?"

"Think it over, brother, if I would have one I would not stay with you any longer..."

"Really? Tell me then, why it feels so hard to believe this?" Kronos beheld me for a while, shook his head and remarked being thoughtful within his own, strange way: "Methos, I just asked myself if you're still carrying a grudge against me because I wanted to find out on my own which virtues your pretty little slave owned, having been able to wind you round her little finger."

"What do you want to tell me?"

"C'mon, Methos, no need to deny it any more. You cared about her..."

"So, you really believe I could be able to care about someone after I killed thousands of people? You really believe there is still space left for feelings inside me after all I committed?"

"Who knows the truth? All I have is your word..."

"I see! Since when does it not do anymore?"

"Listen to me carefully – _brother _– you may be a brilliant strategist but you've always been a really bad liar. If it displeased you that I took her – why didn't you take my head?"

"You know why and I think we're barely in need to discuss this once more!" Before I was able to inhale another breath I felt Kronos' sharp blade close to my neck. Most probably he wouldn't have hesitated to provide me with a quick and the same unworthily end if I hadn't recollected what saved my head many lifetimes before – the gift of thinking one step ahead: "If you kill me right here and now, brother, you will, of course, kill your own legend the same moment. I'm the one planning your raids, but I've no doubt you will get along with it on your own, so, yes, if you're convinced of not being in need for me anymore – take my head..."

"Maybe I will – some day..." He let out a false laugh and pushed the blade back to his belt: "But for now – you're right – it would be a foolery." He was already on his leave when he turned on his heels again and remarked: "Tell me, Methos, can I still trust you?"

"As much as you trust yourself..."

"You're sure of me sparing you from loosing your head, aren't you?"

Meanwhile I had heard his threats that often that I would not have been surprised if he would have let them come true: "No, I'm not, but I know you made a mistake when you allowed this bullock without a single hint of a brain to burn down this place. And it was you who allowed it. Caspian would never act only out of his own impulse..."

"What does this mean...?"

"Just that this oasis is the only one within a wide radius of a couple of days. Every caravan, every nomad tribe being on their way on this route has to take a rest right here on the spot. So, think what will happen now. The clouds of smoke our dear brother caused while burning it all down reaches high above the valley and – without any doubt – it will be visible many miles afar, means whoever was on his way to rest here will now use a different route."

"That's for sure?" Kronos scanned my face with his eyes to find just a single hint being able to tell him that I made a try to betray him – he never found one.

"Sure enough!" I was barely able to hide a little bit of satisfaction and added: "You let a rich prey slip through your fingers, brother..."

Kronos beheld me with a reluctant snarl but he didn't give me another reply. He turned on his heels and finally left me alone still sitting in the sand upon the hill.

I let my gaze follow him until he reached the glade and sighed a sigh of relief. Remaining alone again I wanted to strike the hair out of my face when I got aware of the condition I found my hands within. They were covered with dirt and dried blood and I knew the same applied to my face. Knowing how both got there caused me a rising nausea for the first time after nearly a millennium.

'Who am I?' A question I asked myself more and more often without getting an answer to it.

I got up with a sigh and grasped my sword I had pushed into the soft ground close by my side when I came here...

* * *

There was no one being able to say with an absolute assureness where the water came from feeding the springs of the oasis and it's easy to guess that those who reached this place after having spent days with crossing the desert on a long ride had something different in mind but asking elementary questions about the origin of the water.

I for my part didn't care about it either. All I had in mind when I scooped the clear, cold water out of the spring was how to get the dirt and the blood off of my hands and my face.

The shadow and the chill round the source also refreshed my mind and while the water did not only wash the dirt and the blood away from my hands and my face but also the blue paint identifying me as the warrior I was, I knew that I had to find a way to turn my back on Kronos and the life I led.

My lonely thoughts got a rude disruption when something or someone grabbed me with my ankle.

"Help me..." It was just a low whisper within the half-light, silent and barely to hear.

I was too much a warrior, too much used to be considered of not loosing my head to act in a different way. Within just a split second my sword lay in my hand and I turned round to face this unknown offender coming out of an ambush.

He was none of my kind, no immortal, that was what I knew – in a case like that I would have sensed him long before – and except his fingers being still clasped round my ankle there moved nothing. No attack, no movement, no sound...

There was just that shadowy figure cowering close to my feet, totally dressed in black, the face hidden behind a veil or at least a piece of cloth, who had found its way here. Who ever it was after having a look at his clothes I was dead certain that he must belong to the nomads we assaulted today.

The tip of my sword touched the neck of said stranger and it would have been an easy task to reunite him with his companions right here on the spot. It would have needed just one single stroke of my blade but whatever it was it made me hesitate.

Before I was able to say something the stranger down by my feet anticipated me: "End it, please..." The voice sounded tired and as if he already had surrendered to his fate.

I clasped my sword for a moment and wanted to give in to the feeling having ruled my live for nearly an eternity – the pure desire of killing. I just wanted to wipe this stranger away from the earth's face.

But I did not do it. Instead, I asked: "Who are you?"

My opposite raised to his knees and turned round to face me – and I stared into a pair of big, almond-shaped and nearly black eyes when I got my answer: "Esther! They named me Esther..." With it her strength seemed to be used up because she curled up on the ground again with a painful sigh.

A girl!?

I fell down on my knees at her side and wanted to help her getting up but she grasped for my wrist and whispered: "There is nothing you can do for me anymore..."

"Maybe you're wrong. There's a lot I can do for you if you want me to." With a smile I reached out for her veil, the piece of cloth she hid her face with, and dipped it into the cold water: "It's possible that it may be in vain but if you'll allow me to do it I'll make a try."

"Do I have a choice?"

"No", I replied: "If you want to stay alive there's no choice."

I beheld her face and even after all those years, decades and centuries the world just knew me as being the incarnation of Death I still knew what the meaning of real beauty was. This girl cowering in front of me – Esther – was of such real beauty. I was able to spot it even within the half-light of this cavern and neither the paleness shown upon her face nor the pain within her eyes were able to change this fact.

She let it happen that I struck some strands of her black hair out of her face and that I moistened her lips with the now wet piece of cloth. Without turning her gaze away from me she felt for my hand and led it to the wounds she suffered from. They were two sword stokes and for the first time since I decided to live the life I lived I hoped that it was not my blade which caused these wounds.

I hurried to clean and dress them rough-and-ready but she suffered from a loss of blood and I knew I had to get her out of here if I wanted her to stay alive. She would, I had no doubt of it, but I had no idea where to take her to.

There was only one single place I could take her to – our camp...

So I asked: "Is there a place you want me to take you to?" The words flew over my lips without me being able to think them over.

"There is nothing left of what I once knew. The nomads, the caravan – they were my family. For us this was a place full of peace and recovery. A refuge to escape the merciless sun, the heat and the sand." She paused and a bitter smile appeared upon her lips: "I loved this place..."

"Me too but this was in another time and in another life..." I replied much more stern than I wanted it to sound.

"Now it's destroyed and nothing is left where I can get to..." Her voice was soundless and a single tear ran down her cheek. "But if it is true what the eldest told me, the legends of our tribe say that these two springs grant more to those who drink from them but just refreshment. It says that they are able to heal body and soul if one believes in it."

"Do you believe in it?"

"I do..."

"Then you should drink from it. I'm sure you earn it." I scooped some water into my hands and let her taste from it.

Esther beheld me and when her gaze melted into mine it felt as if she was able to read within my thoughts like within an open book. She asked: "What about you? Why are you convinced not to be meant to earn healing?"

I lowered my gaze and said: "I committed things I don't want to talk about in a place like this. You wouldn't want to stay within my company if you would come to know what I did and who I am. But you can trust me I neither earn healing nor do I earn forgiveness."

When she gave me her reply it left me speechless for a while: "I know who you are, I know what you are and I know what it is you don't want to talk about..."

"...And you're not afraid I could do the same to you?"

"You had your chance when I felt the tip of your sword within my neck..."

"But wherefrom...?"

"I know the stories and the legends about the four horsemen who are supposed of not being able to die. I believe that there are more things hidden within our world than the eye is able to see, I believe in a lot of things I want to believe in even if I will never understand them. Well", she smiled: "and, of course, I saw you within the oasis..."

"Then you know why I earn no forgiveness. No one will ever forgive me..."

"If this is what you want to believe then you're a fool..."

"No, you err! The truth is: no one forced me to join the horsemen. It was my own free decision! If you know what I am you, for sure, know the names they gave me. So, do you know which one I prefer? It's Death! Death on a horse!" I longed for being able to believe in all she just told me but something deep inside me was still reluctant, wanted to stay the one I was. For too long I had relished what I did to leave it behind because of one single moment of weakness. I shot the girl a glare and my voice must have sounded cold and cynical within her ears when I went on: "If you're aware of who I am you're also aware of what will happen to you if I'll take you to our camp. You will be a slave and I won't be able to protect you..."

She did not hear me anymore. She passed out.

And I asked myself what the price might be I would have to pay for the decision I made within this moment...


	4. Behind the Mask

**The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse**

**Chapter 3: Behind the Mask**

* * *

_Methos: "I haven't felt guilt since the 11th century."_

_(Highlander: TV series - from episode 'Til Death...')_

* * *

**Bronze Age – ca. 1700 B. C.**

As usual the camp got enlightened by about a dozen fires and whoever was able to searched for a place close to them, because the nights out in the desert were as cold as its days were hot. From somewhere behind me silent laughter and singing were to hear, and one of the slave girls danced round the fire with the rhythm of a drum, constantly succeeding in fending off every try the men made to touch her.

She was pretty and she knew what to do and how to move to inspire every single sense while she moved light-footed and lissome and while her looks were promising everything and nothing to all the men watching her. The scent of jasmine filled the air when she wrapped herself in and out of her veils.

Jasmine – the sweet scent of it reminded me – without being able to avoid it – of Cassandra.

Since she took flight from our camp there were no flowers any more within my tent. No more flowers, no more sweet fruits and not the slightest hint of warmth. I told myself that all I ever had believed of having felt for her was nothing else but a temporary kind of fancy. Owed to the fact that we were both – in different ways – captives of a life none of us were able or willing to change.

At least that was what I tried – telling me that it was this way – just to admit to myself the same moment that I belied myself...

Equal which argument I found to make myself believe in not having changed since she escaped back then it was not enough to convince me.

Equal which argument I found to tell me Cassandra was nothing to me but just another slave it was not enough to let me forget that it was not the truth and that I ruefully failed with protecting her.

I tried everything to get rid of those memories. I shared uncountable nights with uncountable pretty faces without feeling anything and the aftertaste of all those nights was stale and bitter. They were neither able to fill the emptiness I felt deep inside me nor were they able to dispel the coldness which crept into my tent night after night just to lunge at me as soon as I closed my eyes.

I felt tired and I covered my face with my hands for a moment neither in the mood for watching the sensuous moves of the pretty dancer nor for listening to all those campfire stories the men told each other to kill time or to banish their fear of the darkness.

Not until a pair of warm and tender arms got wrapped around me I raised my gaze again – to look straight into the face of the dancer. She was young but she helped along her beauty much more than only a little. Too much red upon her lips, too much kohl round her eyes and too much powder upon her cheeks made her lovely face look like a mask.

As sensuous as her dance may have been my desire to taste this sweet fruit faded away as soon as I got aware of its shell.

"My handsome master does not want to spend a night like this all alone, doesn't he", she purred and bent down to me.

"Get along with you", I snarled at her and pushed her aside to get up: "I'm not in need for your services tonight..."

"You don't want her, brother...?"

I turned round to face the one who addressed me. It was Silas who sat opposite to me at the campfire. I had nearly forgotten about him. His round face glowed from wine and the heat and he grinned when he realized that it was not my intention to take the girl with me over to my tent.

I returned his grin with a tired smile and replied: "No, I don't want her..."

The girl stood rooted to the ground when she got aware that I, her handsome master, would leave her to my brother. A mix of disappointment, affright and horror got mirrored upon her face when Silas asked: "You don't mind then if I take her tonight...?"

"No", I interrupted him: "I don't care and you know it's like always. Everything in equal share..."

I just could assume if he got the sarcasm hidden within my words but it was much more probable that he missed it because he was obviously much more interested in the little dancer than in really getting me right.

He grasped her by her wrist and dragged her with him but before he pushed her into his tent he shot me another grin and asked: "Going to sleep?"

"I want to stay alone for a while..."

With it I turned round and left the fire and the camp. My steps led me out into the desert – far enough that no one would dare to follow me and close enough not to lose sight of the dancing lights the fires caused.

Silence wrapped me in, the deep black cape of a lonely night within the desert just adorned with thousands and thousands of stars.

Utter silence is able to drive a man insane if his own heartbeat and the noise of his blood running through his veins are starting to fool his overwrought senses. To those who are used to it the same utter silence can turn into a well hidden shelter.

To me the silence and the night were welcomed company because they provided me with that rare chance to stay on my own for just one single short moment.

It was my only chance to surrender to my thoughts, to my memories and to my doubts troubling me.

Doubts!

Since we assaulted the oasis just a couple of days did pass by but it felt like an eternity and what really troubled me was that since then I felt more and more doubt with everything I did.

I doubted having done the right thing when I revealed to Kronos the most effective way to raid the oasis and I tended to believe that it was no contingency which led me back to exactly that place where I suffered the same once, back within a slowly blurring past, which I used to do to others now.

I was barely able to remember when I longed for those bygone times that desperately before like I did tonight. Those times before the Egyptian mercenaries searched us out.

What if it was just a wish I kept deep inside my innermost? Was it true? Did those times, filled with love, trust and fondness, really exist? Or was it just an imagination I wanted to believe in for only one single reason – to benumb my conscience?

To make myself believe in still being able to feel anything?

Wasn't it much more probable that my feelings already drowned in blood many years ago?

And if it was that way why did I feel something like – guilt?

* * *

When I returned to the camp everything round the place had calmed down. Nothing was to hear any more except some sighs of desire here and there or a groan from out of pure lust.

I hurried over towards my tent and sneaked in with a knowing smile upon my lips. I had a rapid look around and breathed a sigh of relief. Everything remained as I left it. Beside a brazier filled with glowing coals, spending some comforting warmth, just two small oil lamps spent a little light. Nevertheless I was able to spot what my gaze searched for – the slender figure who slept – wrapped in some blankets – within my bed.

No one had asked me who the girl was I brought along from our latest raid when we left the oasis. I guess my dear brothers were convinced I had nothing better in mind but making Esther my new slave – and I was not intending to prove these rumors to be wrong.

I was very well aware of what would happen to her if Kronos would ever come to know that she was not a slave for me. I knew as little I was able to protect Cassandra as little I would be able to protect her. There was just one important difference this time – Esther wasn't an immortal, she wasn't of our kind.

If Kronos would ever come to know what kind of meaning she had for me she would die.

A mortal! Again!

I never really cared about what happened to all those we spared from death. It was always the same story – sooner or later they all died. One after the other and mostly sooner than later. Everyone of them was replaceable and none of them really had a meaning.

Not to one of us who outlived centuries or even millennia.

It should take me some more lifetimes until I would find out with what getting closer with certain mortals could present me with, what they possibly could teach me and what I definitely should regret to find out who I really was.

Esther was meant to be one of them. Of course, she was not the first but – like I came to understand somewhen later – she was possibly one of the most important.

The beautiful daughter of the nomads recovered rapidly from her wounds but I had no idea if this applied to everything she had to witness with her own eyes as well.

What really astonished me was indeed something totally different.

First she never accused me of taking her with me against her will, she neither screamed at me nor did she cry during the nights I kept her company like I knew it happened many times before when I brought a pretty face along.

And second that I, who was used to take everything I ever wanted and everything I ever desired, never spent just one single thought on taking her into my bed against her will but, instead, on the question if – and if yes, how – I could be able to save her life.

I had been able to save her and it still surprised me because I proved myself of still being able to do something different but causing dread and fright while sitting on the back of a horse, wearing a terrible mask and swinging my sword...

Tried not to wake Esther up I threw my cape off, slipped out of my clothes and crawled carefully under the blankets by her side. I wrapped an arm round her tender body, buried my head within the cushions and had no other wish but to sleep but as tired I was sleep had not in mind to join me...

* * *

Somewhen in the middle of the night I fell into a fitful doze and within the same moment my dreams found me, showing me lots of faces belonging to people I once crossed paths with, who once had a meaning to me and who I once had loved and lost.

Places and scenes showed up in front of my inner eye, deeds I committed, things I failed to do. Images of which I always thought they were of no meaning to me any more, images of which I thought I had already forgotten all the pain they caused me.

The gaze into a pair of soft dark eyes, filled with panic and agony when a single flourish of a sword first hit me and when another one wiped out the bright light and the love they kept for me.

The painful moment when I returned to life, when I desperately tried to bring her back as well, when I had to realize that she had cried those tears still wetting her broken eyes for me and not because she had begged for mercy.

I saw myself lying on my knees by her side, cursing my immortality, cursing myself for not having been able to save her, crying until I had no tears left...

This entanglement of images and dreams kept me within its claws until a soft touch woke me up and provided me with a proof of still being alive.

It was Esther who – rested on her elbow – bent over me and – using her other hand – struck some strands of my hair out of my face and away from my sweaty brow.

"It was a dream", she whispered when she noticed my wide open eyes and then I felt how her soft lips breathed a gentle kiss upon my temple: "It was just a dream."

Still not really aware what happened while having been asleep I didn't give her a reply but closed my eyes again. I didn't want to talk but I felt her gaze still resting on me. After a while she asked: "Why?"

It was just that single word and I had no idea what she wanted from me within this moment: "Why what?"

"Why are you doing it?"

Confused and astonished I asked: "What do you mean?"

Esther hesitated then she beheld me and said: "Why do you hide your pretty face behind such a terrible mask?"

"What do you think why I do it?"

My answer sounded harsh because I wasn't willing to really answer her question. This mask was a kind of barrier separating the world of all those we assaulted from mine. I had no intention to pay them a visit within their camps or villages to offer them my friendship.

Quite the contrary!

It was all about power and the unique feeling of being able to do to those poor devils lying on their knees in front of me, begging for mercy what ever I wanted to. It was my decision if they would stay alive or if they would die and – of course – I loved the expression shown upon their faces when I lifted the mask. The horror mirrored within their eyes when they came to know that it was not a demon who caused their death.

But was it really just about frightening their lives out of them?

Esther wasn't in the mood to give in. She ignored my latest reply and said: "When you were born it definitely wasn't on the back of a horse and much less as an incarnation of Death..."

"No! You're right! I suppose it rather was the back of a camel."

Although my words still sounded a bit strained she let out a laugh. Neither a forced one nor an artificial one. Her laugh was warm, heartfelt and true and all she said was: "So you're also a child of nomads – the same like me..." From one moment to another she was stern again: "I always loved this life. Never forced to stay in one place, free to go where ever I wanted to. This freedom was all I ever needed – no belongings, no gold, no treasure. You know what I'm talking about, do you? You love your freedom as well, am I right? What else could be the reason for you to still stay here?" She sat up and I felt her gentle fingers slipping over my lips: "You told me you once loved the place where you found me, where you and your brothers assaulted my tribe. If it's true, if you really loved it, why did you destroy it?"

I grabbed her with her hand and kept hold of it with my own: "If you know who I am, if you know what I am why aren't you able then to guess why I am what I am. I think you should be able to make a guess!"

"Maybe." Esther kept silent for a while until she bent over me and let her fingers stroke my cheeks, my temple and my brow again: "Maybe not." She paused as if she thought about something then she whispered: "Methos, I will never be able to forgive what you did to all those you came across since you're the one you're now, I will never be able to forgive what you did to my tribe but I can forgive what you did to me..." Before I was able to give her a reply she covered my lips with hers and as before when we first met within the caverns of the oasis she took my hand and led it to her meanwhile well healed wounds. She broke the kiss and remarked: "It wasn't your sword which caused them..."

I wrapped my arms round her tender body, dragged her down on me and responded: "Esther, I've no doubt that I will relish whatever you have in mind to cause me pleasure with, but you should know that I do not expect this from you. You're neither my prisoner nor my slave."

"I know", she whispered close to my ear: "But if I tell you that it is my free will to cause you every kind of pleasure you long for?"

A long missed warmth like I hadn't felt it for more or less half an eternity suddenly spread within my innermost when I finally got her words. When this lovely girl started to seduce me her lips and her fingertips caressed every single spot of my skin. Her gentle kisses and touches let all my senses nearly well over from longing and desire and I was hardly able to bare it any longer.

"How can you be willing to cause me pleasure although you're in the know about what I really am?" I buried my hands within her hair and forced her to lock eyes with me.

"Because there is something you forgot about when you decided to hide your face from the world..."

"What should this be?"

Esther's gaze never let go of mine when she answered: "Your eyes. This baleful mask may very well be able to hide your face but it's not able to hide your eyes. And if it's true that our own self gets mirrored within our eyes there is something different hidden underneath all that cold, that indifference and that bloodthirstiness you want to make a try to belie yourself with."

She kissed me again and I felt her chilled skin close to mine, I felt her lips upon mine and how they parted willingly to grant me entrance and I felt her pressing her body as close to mine as possible that she couldn't miss the condition I meanwhile found myself within.

I desired her, longed for something of what I nearly had forgotten about how satisfying, how sating and how deep it could be. The only wish I had was to feel her as close and as deep I would be able to...

There was no fear within Esther's eyes when I looked at her but there was the same longing, the same desire and the same wish to feel me...

* * *

Esther had fallen asleep by my side after we had shared a satisfying night of love and pleasure. Her long black stands were spread over the cushions, her lips and cheeks were reddened from uncountable kisses, her right rested upon my shoulder and her left was buried under her head.

I wasn't able to sleep, too sweet was the memory of her hoarse voice close to my ear sighing my name in pure ecstasy and not only once.

It would have been a lie if I would have claimed that I did not sigh her name as well. I did – and not only once...

The feeling of getting desired was the same sweet and painful and I got aware that I was still alive – equal which memories got washed up to the surface within this moment.

As long as I started to remember what it really was I missed, who I had been once and what I had become.

I knew, she – my long-lost love – never would have wanted me to seek revenge. She always would just have wanted me – Methos. No one else, not the one who became Death on a horse, who caused the death of thousands...

The awareness of what I had become, that I had betrayed everything I once had loved, that I had nearly forgotten about everything having had a meaning to me felt painful in such a way that I feared I would not be able to suffer it anymore.

Then, for the first time after more than thousand years I felt tears running down my cheeks...


	5. Everything in equal Share

**The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse**

**Chapter 4: Everything in equal Share**

* * *

_Kronos: "We think alike, we always have."_

_Methos: "I doubt that, Kronos. No one thinks quite like you."_

_Kronos: "Spoken like a true scholar."_

_(Highlander: TV series - from episode 'Revelation 6:8')_

* * *

**Bronze Age – ca. 1700 B. C.**

Immortality!

The chance to outlive years, centuries or even millennia.

The chance to see things, no one else will ever come to see.

The chance to do things, no one else will ever be able to do.

The chance to experience things, no one else will ever experience.

Who has not dreamt within some quiet or lonely nights of being immortal, of living forever – untouched by disease, lingering illness, death and decay. Being able to see how great cultures come and go, how civilizations rise and vanish and to witness how the world changes.

There is nothing condemnable neither within the dream nor within the thought, and both of it isn't absurd either, but only those do really long for it who are not aware of what the meaning really is for outwearing ages.

Immortality does not mean being caught within a continual adventure and getting carried from one amazing place to another. First of all its meaning is to get used to the losses you will suffer year in and year out and not to run mad due to everything and everyone you will lose knowing you will remain alone again in the end – equal how many tries you will make to forget about it.

Some of us fail and lose their head – owed to a perfidious plan telling us that there can only be one of us staying alive in the end. Because the rules demand it, because the "Game" demands it. Regardless of the fact that your last opponent also could be a friend of yours for centuries.

Up till now I survived for more than five thousand years and during this barely imaginable long time I succeeded more than once to withdraw from the "Game" for a rather long time. When MacLeod stumbled into my flat in Paris, several years ago, I hadn't taken a head for about two-hundred years, but even if I sometimes feel endlessly tired and even if I lost the fire and the passion being necessary to face those countless fights we all have to go through I never lost the will to live.

My curiosity of coming to know about everything that will happen next around me still prevails the wish of letting this enormous period of time finally come to an end.

Although I've honestly to admit I never managed to get used to all the losses I had to suffer throughout my long and filled life and – making a guess – I'm sure I will never get used to it...

Makes me kind of human, doesn't it...

So, keeping all of this in mind and thinking it over, what is immortality then?

It's neither a donation given to those who possibly might have earned an eternal life nor is it something one can choose by free will.

None of us could.

We all had to die first until immortality brought us back to life and not every man or woman who returned is really a blessing for the world. I wasn't a blessing for the world myself for a rather long time...

Being immortal does not mean to live solely amongst our own kind. We're forced to live a life amongst mortals – without letting them know who or what we are – and it is not always as easy as it sounds.

It means watching those we love getting older and die.

It means being exposed to superstition, prejudice and delusion as soon as there shows up the slightest hint of being different from the rest.

It means being forced to give up a life we loved to live and to start a new life with a new identity in another place.

And whenever it happens we'll lose another little piece of our self...

When I came across Kronos, Silas and Caspian for the first time I already had outlived a millennium without having been aware what the meaning of losing pieces of myself really was about, what the meaning of suffering losses really was about...

All I had was a vague guess about it.

Gotten thrown back into life without having the slightest idea what happened to me, and why, meant the first loss to me, because, how should a simple tribe of nomads understand what not even the best scientists of the world would be able to explain many centuries later.

The gift – or the curse – of not growing old meant the second loss to me, because, how should those I lived amongst understand what I myself could not. While they grew old and died my appearance and my features were still those of that young man they once admitted to their circle.

Not being able to die – neither due to illness, poison or a blade – as long as I would be able to keep my head upon my shoulders meant the third loss to me, because, where I owned the blessing of rapidly healing wounds and injuries the same wounds, injuries and illnesses caused the death of those I found myself surrounded by.

Without fail and without exception – friends, enemies and all those I loved...

When I decided that it was time to turn my back on Kronos, Silas and Caspian – and with them on the life I led as well – another millennium had passed by.

No longer living amongst mortals but amongst my kind instead, had caused me to change and I had become my own nightmare.

I still knew just a little about the true meaning of being immortal and how it would affect my life within the centuries to come – except that one essential fact: If I wanted to survive I had to take other immortals heads before they would be able to take mine.

The only thing I knew for real and true was that most of those who were not like me treated me with distrust and suspicion – and most of them were mortals.

So why should I've shown them mercy, sympathy or even trust where I was able to cause them fear, nightmares, angst and death at will?

Where there was nothing able to really hurt me?

No one and nothing but me...

No one and nothing but my brothers...

* * *

"Thinking of what I've in mind to become our next undertaking this place is most suitable and absolutely perfect."

Kronos shot us all a glance – one after the other – while he slowly turned round himself and while his wide-spread arms seemed to include the whole place and everything it was surrounded by. He was obviously captured by making plans for a new raid and therefore he missed some not even unimportant details.

This absolutely perfect and most suitable place he chose for setting up our camp was located close to the steep coast. Some nearly completely derelict clay huts told us their own story of a long forgotten settlement having been abandoned a rather long time ago. The constantly blowing wind, the salty breeze coming from the sea and the course of time had just left a handful of barely noticeable ruins.

Within a radius of a ride of about the longest three days a handful of settlements was located and still inhabited. I knew there was some brisk trade amongst some of them and if my memories did not betray me there was also a small port located not more than a few days away from our camp. It wasn't possible to compare it with Alexandria, the impressive Egyptian port meant to be built several decades later, but it would do to get a passage aboard a merchant ship – if necessary.

So we found ourselves surrounded by settlements and their inhabitants what was a more or less new situation for us.

Whatever Kronos had in mind to take this place for perfect and most suitable his plan had to be extraordinarily well-thought-out or not to the slightest little part at all.

I changed a rapid look with Silas and Caspian – not really astonished to find surprise and a certain amount of perplexity mirrored upon their faces – and remarked: "So this is what you name perfect? Well, I'm not intending to rob you of your illusion, brother, but this place is definitely not perfect. Or better let's say it's perfect in one specific kind of the word's meaning – this is a perfect mousetrap!"

"A mousetrap?" Kronos stopped midst his move but he did not turn round to face me: "Was this what you said right now?"

"You got me very well, Kronos, and the meaning of my words as well. Behind us lies the desert, in front of us we face the sea and we're surrounded by settlements." I frowned and went on: "Sounds very inviting. The more if I dare to make a guess how fast all those rumors will spread: the horsemen settle down close to the cliff line. Great news I would name it..."

"Who speaks of settling down here, brother...?"

"No one! And it's not what I claim to happen but – you have to admit this – if you've planned to stay here for a while you will barely be able to avoid causing a stir."

"Don't worry about it! I think we will be very well able to avoid any kind of causing a stir. Because I've not in mind right now to tell all those fools surrounding us who we really are. I've a plan and you will be helpful in accomplishing it as always. There's no problem about it and no secret..."

"You really believe in it then, that everyone will take it for true if we will act merchants, nomads or even settlers? Sorry, brother, but if I'm barely able to believe in it how shall they?" Thinking of this idea caused me to grin and I wasn't able to hide it any more.

"Why not?" Kronos asked dangerously sternly: "If it serves its purpose..."

"Tell me, since when it is that you're so extremely patient?"

"Trust me, Methos, not even eternity would be enough for you to understand what's really going on behind my brow and what my plans are really about."

"I think there's no need to change this, don't you think as well? And maybe you're right." Kronos didn't give me a reply, so I just shrugged and added: "It very well may be that people believe you and me to be something different but a warrior, but I fear this will not apply for Silas and Caspian."

"Do you really think I would not have thought this over?" Kronos turned round and glared at me: "What do you think what for I'm in need of you and your skills, _brother_? You will have a look-around and provide me with a strategy."

"Is that so?"

"It has been since I refrained from taking your head back then when we first met, and it will remain that way until the end of days!"

"You seem to be certain about it, aren't you?"

"Up till now I had no doubt about you. You never had any scruples if it came to chopping heads or pillaging another village. But who knows. Maybe I'm wrong. Things are changing, men as well. So why shouldn't you...?"

"Me? Why should I feel the urge to change? You're the one who wants to hole up here between the sea and the desert..."

"Holing up is such a nasty description. Let's say I decided to do what you wanted me to do for a long time – I start waiting for the opportune moment..."

"Here and now?"

I still was and remained skeptical and Kronos knew it. None of this really made sense. Neither the place nor the point of time were chosen tactically, and even if Kronos would possibly be able and willing to stay patient I would not dare to claim the same about Silas and Caspian.

Kronos beheld me for a while until he said: "As soon as the camp got finally built up I expect you to join me within my tent! There you will come to know what I have in mind..."

With it he turned round and vanished in the direction where the ruins of this former settlement could be found...

* * *

To think about leaving behind slaughter and bloodshed for a while pleased me much more than I would openly admit while staying together with my so-called brothers, especially while staying together with Kronos.

I knew that it neither would get easy to turn my back on our alliance nor that it would become unperilous, but the more often I thought about it the more alluring it appeared to me to take this risk. Even if I would just do it to get Esther out of here.

Esther!

I found myself thinking of her more and more often, longing for her – for her and everything we shared together – and I asked myself how long I would still be able to convince my brothers that she was nothing to be but just another slave girl.

Of course, she already meant much more to me than a slave since she never had been one to me anyway, but there was no answer to the question if I would be able to admit this openly some day. I wasn't afraid about me or my fate. The worst thing ever Kronos could possibly do to me was taking my head.

No!

I was afraid about Esther and I was hell-bent to spare her from a fate like Cassandra had to suffer it. Equal what price I would have to pay in the end...

Nevertheless I had no idea of how to succeed in doing so when I entered Kronos' tent later that day. All I knew was that I had to bury those thoughts deep inside my innermost.

"Come in, brother! As I see I can still trust in you!"

Kronos waved me to come closer with an inscrutable grin. He sat amongst numerous cushions spread on the floor round the fireplace in the middle of his tent and he seemed to be very contented. I nearly felt tried to believe in his calm temper but since I knew him long enough I was very well aware that he could turn into a thing which easily could match a beast of prey within a split second.

So I had a look around and remarked being a bit puzzled to find just the two of us meeting in here: "Where are Silas and Caspian?"

"Oh, I thought it would do if they would come to know the result of our little conversation. So, you should not rack my brain. Sit down..."

"Your new interpretation of 'Everything in equal share'?" While I let myself drop amongst the cushions as well I beheld him intently but as usual he succeeded in hiding his real thoughts from me not willing to reveal the slightest hint of what bothered him.

At least not yet...

"Let's say a kind of necessary evil to avoid too many unnecessary questions." Kronos gave me a smirk and offered me a goblet: "Some wine?"

I reached out to take it but I did not drink. Instead I asked: "Why this place? And why now?"

"Are you in a hurry?"

"I just want to know what I'm about to get myself into..."

"Of course, that's definitely the only reason! I see! And it's impossible that you want to return into the soft embrace of your sweet little slave, isn't it? It's the first time since Cassandra that a girl's able to attract you in such an obvious manner, hmm? A mortal into the bargain! Something short-lived as you're very well aware..."

"Nothing's meant to last forever or to survive forever", I snarled at him: "Not even we!"

"That's possible, maybe it's even probable, but I think I will ignore this annoying little piece of truth. You know, Methos, I've in mind to outlive some more ages..."

"You will! Without any doubt! It doesn't make any difference whether with or without my help."

"What's wrong with you, brother?" Kronos laughed and beheld me: "Don't tell me you claim having lost your heart to a mortal? As it seems you're still able to surprise me. Up till today I always had been convinced of you not having a heart at all..."

"What relevance does me having a heart or not have with your plans?"

"Maybe more than you're able to guess."

I decided to ignore his latest remark, took a deep draft from out of my goblet and asked: "You want me to make your plan if I got you right. Well, you should let me in then with everything you have in mind."

He grinned at me – still in the same obscure way he always used when he kept his real thoughts hidden from me, being only willing to disclose a small part of his plans: "Do you want to know why this place is not a mousetrap but exactly what we're in need for? Because it's of no meaning which of the settlements we will raid first. They lie close enough together to plunder them one after the other and they lie far enough away from each other for not being able to warn each other."

I gazed at him in surprise: "If you already made a plan what for do you want me to submit another one to you?"

"Because of one single reason, my dear Methos! Without covering your face with blue paint you're the one amongst us who looks the most trustworthy. So I want you to ask around, to have a close look around wherever you are. I even want you to prick up your ears if you'll spend the nights with some beauties of the spot..."

"And you really believe in this to be wise?"

"No! All I believe in is that it will be helpful to spread that kind of fear the horsemen are known for."

"Want my advice, brother? You can have this much easier. Just do it like you always did!"

"I think I won't. It's time to change. Where else should the pleasure come from if I'll do it like I always did?"

"I see! If this is what you want you will, of course, have to wait until I'll return..."

"No need to hurry. As you know I trust in you. And as soon as you'll be back there will be enough to be worth of equal share..."

* * *

When I left Kronos it was already sunset and the sun went down at the horizon – sanguineous, accompanied by the swoosh of the waves crashing ashore at the foot of the cliffs.

Gorgeous and the same ill-omened...

Was it true when Kronos claimed to trust in me, when he left spying out the settlements all alone to me?

Or was sending me away the same like testing me because he knew I wanted to get away from the life we led?

Because he knew that I wanted to live a different life?

A life I solely wanted to live with Esther?

A life without bloodshed and without those three men I still named brother?

It went against everything inside my innermost to leave Esther all alone for days or probably even for weeks but if I wanted to avoid getting her into a much bigger danger that she already found herself within I had to wait with taking flight together with her until I would return.

I found her at the cliffs. She sat amongst the rocks, eyes closed, her face turned towards the sinking sun.

When I spotted her sitting there she looked like a wild flower and nothing she went through throughout the last few days seemed neither to trouble nor to astonish her. Nearly as if she was used to live amongst immortals for her whole life. Our secret seemed not to impress or frighten her.

I hesitated for a moment to cover the distance of those few steps keeping me away from her.

Did I really have the right to expose her to a life which would doom her to remain always on the run from Kronos?

Would she even be willing to accompany me?

I got no chance to search for answers to my unspoken questions. Instead of I heard Esther's voice easily drowning the sounds of the wind and the waves: "Have you ever dreamt of staying at one place forever?" She opened her eyes and turned round to look at me.

Tried not to stare at her in puzzlement and confusion I replied: "I already lived a life like that. My people used to stay at a beautiful and peaceful place back then. A lot of green, a well of fresh water – but it had been so many years ago that the memories start leaving me. I'm barely able to remember many details..."

"Was this before you... Before they..." Esther hesitated and gazed at me.

"...before they killed me?" She nodded and I added with a smile: "Yes, it was."

"It must have been a wonderful place and time if you still remember it. Even if those memories start to blur meanwhile. I never came to know a life like yours. My tribe used to rove around from oasis to oasis. We never rested long enough to get used to one of those places. I always loved this life but since they are all... Since they are all dead I long for a different life." She raised her gaze and beheld me out of her soft dark eyes where beside pain and grief something else was hidden within – love: "Since I met you..."

"Since you met me?"

"I know it sounds a bit weird, but..."

She jumped down the rock she sat upon and stopped in front of me. Some last sunbeams were shimmering within her eyes like stars and suddenly nothing of what she told me before sounded kind of weird.

"There's no need to explain it to me." I hesitated to go on but when she nestled up against me within my arms even my last doubt vanished. I held her close as if my life would depend on feeling her: "Esther, I will leave all of this behind. I want to leave Kronos and this life of slaughter and plunder. But I cannot go if I have to leave you as well. I know this must come to you all of a sudden but if I would ask you to accompany me would you do it?"

She hesitated for a rather long while until she gave me a reply and deep inside my innermost I already called me a fool if I would demand from her living on the run from Kronos who would never accept me to leave our brotherhood.

But finally she said: "Where do you want to go to?" Her voice was just a silent whisper within the upcoming night but to hear those few little words coming from her lips seemed to me within this moment to be a kind of relief from a nightmare. The more when she asked: "When do you want to leave?"

"Kronos wants me to spy out the settlements he wants to plunder. I won't be away for long and I promise as soon as I'll return we'll leave – even if I've not the slightest idea whereto I will take you. But I assure you I will find a safe and a beautiful place for you..."

"Methos, just tell me what I can do to help you with this..."

"Believe me, Esther, it's much better you know nothing about my plans."

"I'm not as helpless as you might think." She cocked her head and went on: "Have you already forgotten? I'm the daughter of my tribe. I know how to defend myself."

"Oh, I do not doubt your skills. It's just because I know Kronos and I know what he's supposed to do if he will come to know what I'm going to do behind his back." I grasped her with her chin and forced her gently to lock eyes with me: "I'm immortal, Esther, and the time we will have to spend it together will pass by much faster than we will be able to imagine now. Too fast to take the risk of him using you to keep me with him. I wished this would be kind of different but as much as I wish it I could not prevent it. All I can do is to make a try to protect you and to share everything with you we will be able to share within the period of time we will have left together." With a sigh I added: "I will ask Silas to protect you if it will be necessary as long as I'm away. I trust him and he trusts me..."

"Don't worry about things you cannot foresee now. It's only this moment which is of relevance right now and there is another one which will be important as soon as you'll be back. And now come with me." She took my hand and led me over to the cliffs: "I found a small path leading down to the shore."

Esther led me down the small, cliffy and barely caved path until we reached a well hidden place, not visible if one had a look down from above.

The constant moves of the waves had washed a cave out of the cliffs. It was filled up to the knees with water and within the light of a just rising full moon it appeared to be liquid silver.

It had been long ago since I got carried away by such a moment filled with beauty.

Much too long...

Esther seemed to sense it. She laughed and said: "This place is neither a dream nor an illusion. Just as little as I am. Take it for a present..." She breathed a kiss upon my lips and dragged me with her over to the silvery shimmering water: "Trust me..."

And while she was still talking to me she let drop her clothes – one piece after the other...

Moonlight wrapped her in and within this moment I felt certain like I never felt before that I wanted to share everything with her. What ever it might be and how long ever it would last...


	6. The bitter Taste of Truth

**The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse**

**Chapter 5: The bitter Taste of Truth**

* * *

_MacLeod: "Did you kill all those people?"_

_Methos: "Yes. Is that what you want to hear? Killing was all I knew. Is that what you want to hear?"_

_MacLeod: "It's enough."_

_Methos: "No it's not enough! I killed...but I didn't just kill fifty...I didn't just kill a hundred...I killed a thousand! I killed TEN thousand! And I was good at it. And it wasn't for vengeance. It wasn't for greed. It was because...I liked it. Cassandra was nothing. Her village was nothing. D'you know what I was? I was Death! Death on a horse! When mothers warned their children that the monster would get them, that monster was me. I was the nightmare that kept them awake at night. Is that what you want to hear? The answer is yes. Oh yes."_

_(Highlander: TV series - from episode 'Comes a Horseman')_

* * *

**Bronze Age – ca. 1700 B. C.**

Why is it that a heart can break?

From pain?

From grief?

Weakened from treason or loss?

Out of compassion or self-pity?

Deliberated from illness or age?

Or even just from – love...?

And if there are so many ways to break a heart – how often will it suffer to be broken during a lifetime?

During a lifetime of an immortal...?

I don't know any more how often I asked myself said one single question throughout those more than five thousand years I lived among mortals without ever getting or finding an answer able to satisfy me. And even if I would have found the answer I would – in spite of it – have been spared – or was it refused? – from dying due to a broken heart anyway...

Many people are afraid of it – of dying...

This applies to me not less than to every other man or woman on earth, but all I had experienced throughout the centuries taught me that it can be far worse having to live on with a broken heart – equal whatever it was causing it to break – instead of dying from a broken heart.

That, obviously, is the price an immortal has to pay if he or she lives for too long amongst mortals.

A price I've to pay for something I never asked for, I never wanted, I never chose by free will.

A price I've to pay for something some other powers decided me to be provided with...

If I recapitulate the centuries I outlived up till now, all the losses and all the grief I had to suffer caused my heart to fly into flinders for so often that I'm not quite sure if I'm still able to reassemble all its pieces correctly again and again.

Losses, yes, and grief, oh yes – the first things everyone thinks of whose heart once got broken.

But what if a heart wants to burst from nothing else but pure joy and confidence?

Won't there also shards be left...?

* * *

I was in high spirits when I found myself on my way back to our camp at the steep coast high above the sea. Not only because I knew I needed much less time than I had originally planned, but much more, because, that last spark of an idea came to me all of a sudden I still had missed up till today.

The idea how I would be able to escape into another life, together with Esther, without causing much of a stir. I was very well aware of the fact that – should I fail – she would lose her life and I would lose my head, which would actually lead – of course – to the same result.

Much more probable it was, indeed, that Kronos would keep us both alive and for only just one single reason: for his own and personal pleasure which would insist on letting us suffer as long as possible.

So, I definitely had not in mind to fail – not again – and I knew I wouldn't get another chance to turn my back on my momentary life if I would fail...

Nevertheless it was that Kronos expected me to prove myself to him as his true brother. I knew much too well what it was he wanted from me when he sent me out to spy out the settlements we were surrounded by within a few day's range:

The proof of my loyalty which he obviously doubted like he did never before since that time when Cassandra succeeded in escaping us.

Although I knew it I went out to said quest and pretended to be just a wayfarer searching for the destination of his journey while travelling from place to place and from settlement to settlement.

No one knew me when I asked for a meal and quarters for the night which both I was only able to pay with all the stories I had to tell.

No one knew that it was my face which remained hidden behind a deathly mask when me and my brothers would show up soon to plunder these villages.

And I had ashamed to realize that nowhere no one ever denied me a meal and quarters for the night – even if I had nothing else to pay with but the stories I had to tell.

Mostly half of the village hung on my lips when I told its inhabitants about foreign countries and people, about landscapes and animals they never heard of before, and whenever I had to take leave the very next day it seemed to be much to their regret.

Of course, I had to take leave, and none of my friendly and innocent hosts came ever to know that I not only told them stories, but sounded them out as well the same time about their hidden little secrets – means treasures – and their skills if it came to defend their belongings.

Mostly their only treasures were those they carried with them on their limp and what they needed to survive.

There was nothing worth to raid those poor devils. Nothing but themselves.

They were nothing but potential slaves I heard this unrelenting voice of mine whispering deep inside my innermost. That voice which was still bound to Kronos and a life as one of the Four Horsemen and which I was still barely able to control although it seemed as if I would be close to regaining my conscience.

It was the truth!

Those people living within these little villages, camps or settlements owned nothing but their lives and because of this there would be only one choice between death and slavery which would overtake them soon.

_Let them choose death or slavery!_

_I knew how it was supposed to end!_

_I had witnessed it much too often!_

_I had let them make their choice much too often!_

_I had relished it much too often..._

I went back on my way towards my planned heading in pondering silence until I finally reached my destination.

It was not exactly the one Kronos would have expected, but to me it felt like the first little hint of freedom when I reached the small port only a few days afar from our camp. The breeze coming from the sea refreshed my mind and I relished watching how a merchant vessel, having been moored to the pier, got unloaded.

The sea!

Being a child of the desert it never came to my mind before that it would possibly save my life some day. Now it seemed as if I had no other choice...

The more pleasing it was when the captain of the same merchant vessel agreed to take me and my companion aboard without asking questions if we would be able to be back within the next ten days. Of course, his silence would have to be bought for a not even small amount of gold, but I thought it might be worth the try.

Ten days – not much time to leave, but I was confident enough to believe in it to do...

* * *

"Take care of the horse!"

I jumped out of the saddle and threw the strings over to one of the slave girls. She grasped for them, let them almost drop and stared at me out of wide open eyes, as if she either had not seen me ever before or as if she had not expected me to be back that early.

Both seemed to me to be rather improbable, because she was – if I wasn't mistaken – one of Kronos' favorites, meaning she succeeded in winning his attention for more than just one night. I had no idea if this was supposed to be a blessing or rather a kind of punishment. She had to answer a question like that on her own.

"What's wrong", I snarled at her when she still stared at me: "Having forgotten about how to handle a horse?"

She merely shook her head and went away to care for the horse in excessively eager.

Most probably, it came to my mind, she thought it to be not worth to think about, because she got caught within the illusion of only serving Kronos. A dangerous illusion...

I turned round with a shrug and strolled over towards my tent. Maybe I should have wondered about the girl who still stared after me, but all I longed for was to get rid of the dust and the sand I carried with me within my hair and my clothes. And of course I longed for another pair of eyes watching me while taking off my clothes...

But instead of a lovingly gaze out of dark, almond-shaped eyes only an empty tent waited for me, where neither an oil lamp spent a little light nor a brazier spent some welcomed warmth throughout the night.

It was silent all around me and everything looked as if no one had stepped in here since several days. Maybe even since I left the camp...

Something was definitely wrong and from one moment to another my pleasant anticipation of dragging Esther into my arms, of telling her about the passage I had been able to arrange for the two of us aboard the merchant vessel and of dreaming of another life together with her aside from bloodshed, turned into a foreshadow, a vague feeling of suspicion. I tried to push it aside – without being successful.

Instead of her soft and gentle arms getting wrapped around me to welcome me a sudden cold grasped for me with icy claws.

_Something was definitely wrong..._

I rushed out of my tent, threw off my cape and hurried over to the slave girls who cared for my horse: "Where is she?"

"My lord Methos?"

The one I guessed to be Kronos' momentarily new amusement raised her gaze just to stare at me again. After all she seemed to remember my name and who I was. Kind of progress I would have named it if having been in better temper.

"Never make the mistake of taking me a fool, wench, you would rue it some day. I know you to be around here for much longer than I had been away. Oh, and while we're talking about it right now I'll give you another advice: There's no need trying to remind me of it – I do not care if you heat or share Kronos' bed. As soon as he loses his interest in you he will possibly hand you over to me. Got me? So, once again: Where is she?"

"I don't know", she lied and lowered her gaze.

I grabbed her with her wrist and forced her to lock eyes with me - and I was totally surprised when she shot me a glare which showed not fear but a kind of hubris. Tried to hide my confusion I hissed: "You should start praying to your gods – which ones ever they may be – because, if I should not find Esther, I will return and ask you again."

"Kronos will..."

"Kronos won't! You can deeply trust in me! He will watch when I will deal with you! That's promised..."

Despite this unmistakable threat and the mordant cynicism I acknowledged her with, she still kept silent. Obviously she trusted much more in Kronos, our double-minded leader, being her protector than in being afraid of me.

A weary smile upon my lips I finally released her and went to search for Silas. Before I left I had entrusted him with sheltering Esther and if there was anybody around being able to tell me what happened to her he was supposed to be the one.

I found him – as usual – with the animals. They meant more to him than any human being ever would. He spent hours with watching, feeding and stroking them which more and more often led to skirmish with Caspian, whose sneering remarks mostly hit the nerves they should hit.

Silas raised his head when he got aware of my presence and his otherwise rather numb and unimpressive face brightened up with pleasance and surprise when he recognized me: "Methos! So, you're back, brother?"

"Just returned, yes. So to say", I replied with a forced smile.

"You've been successful?"

"I was!"

I took a deep breath and wanted to add something when he beheld me and asked: "So it's true and we will leave? You know best this is not for me. Sitting around and waiting..."

"I promise, it will be over soon."

"Sounds good, brother. You always kept your promises."

He wrapped his enormous hands round my shoulders and I saw his eyes sparkling within the twilight.

I freed myself from out of his brotherly embrace and said: "So did you as long as I know you. That's why I want you to tell me why you're not with Esther. I entrusted her to you."

"She's fine, Methos, don't worry. Kronos took her with him over to his tent shortly after you had left. Said you would have agreed that she would keep him company as long as you were on your way..."

I closed my eyes, hardly able to keep myself upright, and tried to tell me that this couldn't be the truth. It must not be the truth.

"Something wrong?" I heard Silas ask while totally caught with my thoughts.

I already feared the worst and it took me some effort not to show it right here and now.

So I just tried to get rid of those dark visions, shook my head and replied: "Everything's fine." I beheld the giant by my side and repeated: "Really! Everything's fine."

With it I turned round and returned to the camp and our tents.

* * *

When I reached Kronos' tent I felt my heart beating up to my throat. This time there would be no way back anymore. The thought of possibly losing Esther to Kronos after I already had lost Cassandra to him seemed to me that unbearable that I not even dared to think about it.

Being angry about my own stupidness and thinking about the pain she must have suffered caused tears welling up within my eyes. I wiped them away not wanting them to cool my mind down or to give my feelings away. It was still not time neither for mourning nor for being afraid of what was possibly waiting for me.

I did not ask for permission or if I was welcome when I entered Kronos' tent, I just rushed in.

Kronos was not alone. I found him and one of his slave girls tightly embraced amongst the sheets of his bed. He and his little wench needed not long to sense my presence and he broke their amorous play the same moment. The girl wanted to cover her nakedness but I wasn't willing to grant her that favor.

Within a split second I felt my blade within my hand and said to her in a harsh voice: "Get along with you! This is just between your master and me!" Her fearful gaze searched for mine and Kronos' by turns and I added: "Take your clothes and pack off! Get out! Now!"

She did not hesitate any longer, grasped her clothes and sneaked out of the tent as fast as she was able to.

As soon as she was gone I heard Kronos laugh: "Bravo, brother, what an impressive entrance! I did not expect you to be back that soon."

"We all do err for the first time sooner or later. Should prepare for getting used to it."

"Tell me, why are you that upset? Is it because you want the girl? One word would have been enough..."

"Too much honor! No! Keep her! She's worth her master."

"So, it's not about the girl then? Well, what else could be the reason for you rushing in here and disturbing me?"

Kronos sat up and beheld me – lurking, waiting, calculating if I would really dare to challenge him. The blade within my hand suddenly felt heavy and less helpful but it was the only thing able to prevent me from losing my head.

A vague hope...

I knew that I – if I would really get forced to fight against Kronos – would be lost, but the same applied to me if I would betray Esther.

I had nothing left but this vague hope and I pleaded inwardly it may not deceive me.

"Well then, Methos, again, if it's not the girl what else led you here at this hour?" His gaze intently fixed on me he grasped for his goblet of wine standing on a small table next to his bed: "If you want to talk about your little excursion and all you found out – there's enough time to talk about it tomorrow..."

"That's, in fact, pleasing that we agree about this, brother, but", I slowly shook my head: "I'm neither interested in those plans you may have for us nor in all those plans you may have for those settlements out there."

"Not? You astonish me! Go on then. What is it?"

"Where is she?"

"Who?"

"Esther!"

"Let me tell you something, Methos", Kronos rolled round upon his bed until he came to lie on his back again while evenminded staring at the ceiling: "You should surcease getting used to your slaves that deeply. They are kind of nice amusement and they are nothing else but that. Something you should relish as long as it is delicious and then forget about it."

"She's not my slave!"

"She's not?" His words were filled with merriment when he went on: "So, tell me, what else is she to you then? You won't claim, at all, that she has a meaning to you, won't you?" I lowered my gaze, not able to give him a reply and the same moment I learned that this was not even necessary any more – Kronos already knew it: "Damn, brother, as it seems it's true. You love her! If I would not see you standing in front of me right now, I would not believe it, but as it turns out there are still some things I do not know about you..."

"Where is she?"

"Don't worry, she's still alive." Kronos got up, remained standing a blade length away from me and added while he kept taps on every reaction I may show him: "Maybe I'm not that subtle and patient like you, but I can assure you I relished her too much to harm her. Soft skin, hot temper, sweet lips. Shall I go on? No? It's just a pity that her beauty won't last."

"Why Esther? You have more than enough concubines!"

"Methos, tell me, if there's something you may have missed?"

"What should that be?"

"You change! First Cassandra, now this mortal. As it seems to me your thoughts are more and more often not where they are supposed to be. Possible or not?"

"Possible!" I replied sarcastically: "It's possible that I've enough of wading through blood rising up to my ankles; it's possible that the smell of fear and death just causes me nausea any more after all those years; and, yes, it is possible that I can very well imagine to lead a life far away from you and this camp..."

"Idle talk I name it!" Kronos wiped my concern aside: "Nothing but a musing..."

"Maybe, maybe not, but you still haven't answered my question..."

"I've no idea where you can find your little mortal. Try it with Caspian! She also could have jumped down the cliffs. C'mon, brother, come to terms with it. She's nothing different from all those slaves walking about within this camp. It will be much easier to forget about her."

"Do you really believe in your words?" I lowered the sword and made some steps towards him: "What makes you that sure you know me? Because you name me brother? Because my strategies are leading you to your many pleasures? I can ensure you about one thing, you know nothing about me. With Cassandra I failed, but, trust me, I won't make such a mistake again. You're an immortal, _brother_, of course, you are, but even your head only sits upon a narrow neck..."

"Are you really convinced you could beat me in a fight to death?" Kronos grinned: "That, my dear Methos, I doubt, because I know at least one reason which will stand in your way with it. You use to think too much, you're regaining your conscience and you started to feel for your slaves. All of this is befogging your senses. You better should concentrate on the marrow." He paused and scanned my face: "Even if you would really want it you would not be able to beat me. You're much too attached to your life to risk your head. You're very well aware that one single strike would be enough to separate you from both – your life and your head. You're too much afraid of the idea that I could be the one who might anticipate you. That is why you let it happen that I took Cassandra! And that is why I had been able to relish your pretty, mortal nomad..." His grin died away upon his lips and he went on: "Dare challenging me and you will learn what else I will do to your girl – besides taking her to my bed – while you will watch it..."

I knew this to be the truth. If I would dare to fight against him I already would have lost. Therefore I placed my sword back to my belt and looked straight into Kronos' face: "Well then, brother, you're right. I'm attached to my head, I'm attached to my life. But from now on you should never feel much too certain about me."

I felt his measuring gaze within my back while I turned round, ready to leave, when I heard him behind me: "Methos! What ever it is you have in mind – I will always know where to find you..."


	7. Esther

**The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse**

**Chapter 6: Esther**

* * *

_Methos: "I know she's dying. You are ALL dying. Twenty years, six months, what's the difference."_

_(Highlander: TV series - from episode 'Timeless')_

* * *

**Bronze Age – ca. 1700 B. C.**

I had to restrain myself from not rushing out of Kronos' tent the same furious like I felt as when I rushed in before, although I would have loved to take flight from him as fast as possible.

If he would have forced me to stay with him just one more little moment all my well-thought-out plans would have been undone, because, regardless of the fact that it most probably would have been me losing my head, I would have tried everything to free the world from my 'beloved' brother.

Instead I strayed through our camp within the sparse light of a waning moon forcing myself to concentrate on something different. I had to find Esther – at any cost.

Without knowing that he did me a great favor Kronos told me where I had to search for her and I hoped I would not err. I never believed in finding her with Caspian – Kronos knew me too well and was supposed of having made a guess how this possibly could have ended – and therefore only one place remained where I had not searched for her up till now.

Although I was very well aware that no one except me and Esther had only the slightest idea what kind of wonderful hideout was hidden down there – at the foot of the cliffs.

Had I really been such a fool? I should have searched for Esther at the cliffs from the first moment when I returned. Instead I got myself in danger again while facing Kronos. Like a stupid boy not knowing what life was about.

Well, as it seemed it was that not even those nearly two thousand years I had survived, as yet, were able to spare me from making errors. Stupid errors endangering the only person having a true meaning to me, having presented me with her warmth and her love. In a place where just a sword was able to save your life – if at all – or a smart mind.

Without wasting some more thoughts on it and without hesitating one more moment I started running over to the cliffs – despite the fact that I was hardly able to spot anything around me and ignoring those curious eyes which were supposed to watch me.

I hastened along the steep coast very well aware that one single step could be more than enough to let me fall down the cliffs and end up amongst the sharp-edged rocks. Of course, it was not important for I would not die from it – at least not permanently – but I was neither fond of undergoing the moment of the clash nor of the moment where life would leave me. Not to mention the painful awakening after a not less painful dying.

"It must serve some kind of purpose", I told myself while in front of me the rocks showed up I wanted to find.

Despite the darkness I felt myself surrounded by I needed not long to find out that Esther wasn't there.

That was why I peered over the edge of the cliff – and stood rooted to the ground.

Far below I recognized the flickering light of about a handful of torches got stuck within the smooth sand of the beach and arranged in a ritual semicircle. In front of them cowered a small figure – motionless and supposedly untouched by the nightly cold.

The dancing flames spread the whole place with bizarre shadows and soused the lonely figure in its white clothes with a hint of warmth...

But stop!

White? Was it really white?"

Since I came across Esther for the first time when I found her at the oasis there hadn't been a single day where I had noticed her being dressed in white – and within in just a split second I got aware what she wanted to do at this place and at this hour.

In front of her, in the sand, something else glinted within the flickering light.

A blade...

"No!"

I did not think about ifs and buts any longer, but jumped, stumbled and slid down the narrow and steep path leading to the beach, while the same time I pleaded to all the known gods coming to my mind for letting me be with her in time to keep her from doing what she doubtlessly had in mind to do.

Totally out of breath, my hands and face covered with scrapes and scratches I finally reached the cliff's foot somewhen.

It was really Esther who knelt in the sand and I was glad that she wasn't supposed of having heard me – the constant sound of the waves rolling ashore absorbed every other sound more quiet than itself.

Only hesitating – step by step – I dared to approach her, willing and determined to keep her from accomplishing her inscrutable plan...

"Esther!"

Totally affright she turned round and faced me, her gaze a mixture of scare, desperation and pain and I came to realize that I did not err.

She wore a plain dress made of white linen, a small golden belt wrapped round her waist. Her wrists and ankles got adorned with heavy golden bracelets and her arms with golden clasps formed like snakes. Her neck was grazed with a broad necklace made of jewels and for the first time ever I saw her wearing filigree earrings. Her eyes were surrounded with kohl and in front of her, in the sand, lay the cut off strands of her once long black hair.

Her eyes widened when she got aware that I was not the one she obviously had expected.

Esther breathed a sigh of relief and the pain and the desperation shown within her eyes replaced the scare, but all she did when she recognized me was shaking her head.

No word, no smile no gesture to welcome me. Nearly as if it caused her even more pain to see me right here and right now...

"Why?" I asked her, not willing to give in that easily if I had to fight for her love and her life.

It was true, I had not been able to spare her from all she had suffered as long as I had been away but this time I would not provide Kronos with getting his satisfaction while watching me giving in.

A ship waited for Esther and me and I had not in mind letting it set sail without her and me being aboard.

She beheld me intently while her lips formed my name soundlessly.

Slowly she got up and made some steps towards me until she suddenly stopped once again shaking her head: "Why did you come here? Why did you come back?" She gave me a tired smile and went on: "You should have left as long as you had been able to..."

"Leaving you behind?"

"There is no other chance for you! Leaving together! It was a wonderful plan! A sweet musing! A beautiful dream! Have you really ever believed in it? In a dream like that possibly coming true?"

"I always did! I still do!"

"You still do? Then you're much more a fool than I thought you to be when I first met you."

"Maybe!"

She did not give me a reply but turned away. For a while she just stood there, lost in thoughts, staring at the waves until she finally explained: "You have to forget me!"

"How could I?"

"You have to! Don't you listen to me? I cannot come with you! Not after all what happened..."

"Esther, less than three days afar from here anchors a ship. The Captain promised he would wait for us and I won't make one single step aboard without you. Don't you understand...?"

I saw her struggling with herself, torn between her wish for living and her want to forget about the shame Kronos did to her.

She looked at me tried to keep her tears from running down her cheeks: "And what about you? Don't you want to understand? I still feel it! Every day! Every night! Relentlessly forced down on his bed, at the mercy of his edacious touch, every spark of resistance wiped away by another slap, the pain when he forced himself into me..."

She turned her gaze away: "But why am I telling you all this? Of course, I should know you're very well aware of what is meant and how it feels, aren't you?"

Resignation sounded within her voice nothing else. Neither accusation nor disgust.

And she was right. I knew how it felt to take what I desired. I had relished it much too long. Not to waste a single thought if those I forced into my bed to sate me wanted it or not.

I had not been different from Kronos neither within thinking nor within acting. Maybe I had even been the worse one, because my face never seemed to match my deeds.

There was no way back to undo it and I would have to live with all those memories as long until someone would take my head some day, but until it was as far as I would not suffer that Esther wanted to end her life here and now: "You're much stronger than him! Prove me to be right and him to be wrong!"

"Methos, equal what I might be able to do, equal what you might be able to do, he will never let us escape."

"I do not have in mind to ask for his permission! Tomorrow night we will leave all of this behind. All you have to do is want it!" She stood there, in front of me, shivering from the nightly cold, a small and slender figure, the love I never wanted to lose no matter the cost: "Listen to me, the time we will have to spend it together will be much too short anyway. Don't end it before we already gave it a try."

"My life was over when you found me at the oasis! You know it's useless to deny it. You know that it is the truth! Even if you decided not to make me your slave or to take me as your prisoner. It's just your decision. To Kronos there is no difference if I'm your slave, your prisoner or your lover. He expects you to share the prey, your prey, with him and he showed me the meaning of it..."

I took a deep breath and locked eyes with hers: "Have I ever told you about Cassandra?"

* * *

I inwardly thanked Esther for not interrupting me while I told her about Cassandra and what I did or better what I did not when it came to share the prey. The memory of said night back then, so many years ago, still hit me without any warning and I knew I neither would find an explanation for what I did to her nor would there ever be an excuse.

If there was something left for me it was the realization that, without having crossed paths with Cassandra, I would still be the one I had been back then, and that, without crossing paths with her, I would have done the same to Esther like I did to her and so many others.

It was too late, now, to ask for forgiveness with Cassandra, but it was not too late to save Esther...

"Now you're aware who I really am, now you're aware of what I used to do! No more guesses, no more stories. There is only one wish left – I want to be someone different, but how could I if I would suffer you to..."

"You loved her, didn't you?" Esther asked with a knowing smile.

It was an easy question but I had not the slightest idea how to answer it, because, there had never been a chance to find out, because, it was over before I could have spent a thought on it.

That was why I replied: "I don't know! And if it had been love I had not been aware of what it was back then. The truth is, I desired her, I cared for her and I betrayed her..."

"She's of your kind. You can still make a try to find her, to find it out."

"No! No chance! Before she would listen to me she would take my head. By all means..."

Esther just beheld me with a smile and said: "If fate is merciful you will live forever. Time's able to make a lot of mistakes forget. Maybe she will forgive you someday."

"Could you?"

"I already did! Having forgotten about it?"

"No!" I grasped her hand and dragged her over to me: "I know you did but I'm still confused why you did it."

"Don't ask about the why. I did and I would always do it again."

She smiled and her fingers stroked my cheek – and due to this tiny little touch I desperately felt what it would mean to me if I would lose her...

"If you would then do not leave me! Come with me! You cannot have forgotten what you told me only a few days ago! Your dream of living in another place! Equal where and when! Together with me! Equal how much time we might have together..."

"What kind of life is this supposed to be...?"

I dared to shoot her a grin: "A life together with me..."

"Methos..."

"Always on the run..."

"Methos!"

"A life where we will own nothing but each other."

Esther tore me out of my sweet dream: "What if I will not be able to forget? What if it will destroy us?"

"I will never allow it! Got me? Never!"

"Why are you that certain of being able to endure it while I'm hardly able to suffer it myself?"

"Because I know I can handle it!"

She freed her hand from mine, turned away from me, her hands intertwined, her head lowered.

It was for a while that she stood there that way until she finally gazed at me again, her beautiful face wet from tears: "I'm afraid, Methos, afraid of what else could happen to us. I'm afraid I could not be that strong as I always told me to be. I know how to handle a sword, I knew how to tame my father's wildest horses but throughout the last days I had to find out that nothing I ever learned or knew was able to protect from everything Kronos did to me. How can you dream a dream of spending your life together with me if another one..."

"Because I love you!"

Now it was out and for one moment it seemed to me as if time stood still. I did not dare to move or to speak. It was the truth and there was no reason anymore to deny it.

Esther was no slave and no captive and whatever might have happened she was none of Kronos' concubines. She would never be one – not for me.

The same moment I felt Esther throwing herself into my arms wrapping hers around me that both of us would run short of breath sooner or later. Her lips crashed into mine that passionately that I tasted blood upon my tongue but I did not care while holding her as close as possible and deepening the kiss.

I felt her heart beating, I felt her breath upon my cheek, relished her sweet lips and enjoyed the fact that only a hint of linen kept my hands away from her soft skin.

I longed for her, yearned for her...

And when I buried my hands deep within her now short black hair I had just one wish – being able to drag her closer again.

She leaned her brow against mine and I felt her tears wetting my cheeks, felt how she got tossed by sobbing while I held her close.

I gently took her face in my hands after a while and forced her to look at me: "Promise me that you will never spend a thought on committing suicide again. Unlike me you have only one life you can lose and there is no power all around the known world being able to bring you back to me if you once have left the living."

I wiped the tears away from her cheeks and kissed her again.

She locked eyes with me and whispered: "I promise..."

* * *

This night was supposed to be the last we wanted to spend within the camp of the horsemen until we would take flight from it with sunset the next day. I had planned to follow the coast line to reach the port and the ship waiting for us.

Except some of our belongings and enough gold to pay the Captain there was nothing I wanted to take with me. No further memories of a life I just wanted to leave behind. Just my hopes of being able to forget some day.

I was tired because I had no moment of rest since I returned from my excursion and I dared to make a guess that Esther longed for spending a more or less peaceful night together with me as well.

Therefore I crept amongst the cushions and under the sheets of my bed and watched how she lay down her attire piece after piece and how she finally slipped out of this thin linen dress she was still wrapped in.

He soft skin shimmered like bronze within the little light of some candles and oil lamps and with an admiring smile I reached my hand out for her: "You must be a dream, a friendly ghost or a nymph, my sweet, and I'm the lucky one you choose to present with your presence."

Esther grabbed my hand and her gaze rested upon me like a gentle touch: "No, I'm neither a ghost nor a nymph. Otherwise I could not spend the night with you. I would be forced to leave you with sunrise and that I don't want..."

She kept my gaze with hers while she slipped under the sheets by my side covering my face with kisses.

Something strange was within her eyes, something I should come to know much later:

Longing, love, desperation and sadness...

Within this night it had a different meaning to me. The meaning of promise and bliss. Her sweet lips and her soft hands made my senses well over from joy and I only wished that this night might last an eternity – until I wanted to drag her upon my lap.

Esther shied away and a hint of fear was to spot upon her face.

I tried to soothe her and whispered: "It is your decision! This night belongs to you! I belong to you! Forever..."

"Forever", she replied and once again her lips tried to run me mad.

Her kiss was the same filled with longing, love, desperation and sadness like her gaze was but the way she seduced me made me forget about everything.

Later that night I held her close and fell asleep – knowing that only one last day would keep me from beginning a new life together with her.

* * *

A terrible pain tore me out of my sleep – sharp and stabbing – and when my eyes flew open all I could concentrate on was the pain within my chest and the dagger got pushed into it up to its handle.

I gasped for air, desperately clasping said handle, trying to get rid of the blade. Without any success. I felt my gaze already getting blurred but I recognized Esther by my side. Tears were running down her cheeks while she bent over me. A second white-hot pain ran through my body when she pulled the small blade out of the wound.

"Forgive me", she whispered: "Please forgive me! I cannot come with you although there is nothing on earth I would have loved more."

"Why!" I already felt life leaving me and I begged silently that I would hold out just a little longer.

"Because I love you! Because I can't suffer what Kronos did to us..."

"Esther, please..."

Everything around me became indistinct and the last I was able to sense were her tears falling down upon my face, her lips covering mine and her whisper close to my ear: "I love you..."

Then everything became silent and dark...

* * *

Fresh air found its way back to my lungs in sudden bursts and as always when I returned back to life, I thought the pain and the anguish might tear me into pieces. I still panted for air until I was finally able to sit up.

Lying by my side I found the small dagger and a curl of black hair...

Esther was gone and I knew this time I would not be able to reach her in time equal whatever I might be able to try. Nevertheless I stumbled to my feet and slipped into my clothes as fast as possible.

I found her where I found her the night before – at the foot of the cliffs, closer to death than to life – and dragged her in my arms. Not caring about the blood she was covered with.

She blinked and for a last time her sweet smile dispelled the paleness of death she already was touched by.

"Why are you here?" Her voice was just a hoarse and silent whisper any more.

This time I had no answer for her. I just held her as if my embrace was able to prevent her from the inevitable, my fingers stroking her hair, my face buried within her shoulder.

"Methos..."

With her last breath she kissed me once more, then all I felt was her slowly ebbing away gasps close to my cheek...

No scream, no cry left my lips. I just held her, lying on my knees, not caring for the waves soaking my clothes, silently weeping until I had no tears left any more...


	8. There will always be a Choice

**The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse**

**Chapter 7: There will always be a Choice**

* * *

_Kronos: "We never raise a blade against each other, isn't that right, Methos?"_

_Methos: "You said it."_

_(Highlander: TV series - from episode 'Revelation 6:8')_

* * *

**Bronze Age – ca. 1700 B. C.**

Had it been an hour?

Had it been a day?

Or had it been even a week since I lay upon my knees down at the foot of the cliffs, hardly able to move and more than just unwilling to release the lifeless body I still kept within my arms.

I did not know it and I had no need to know it.

Why should I have felt the need of returning into a life which forced me to leave everything behind having ever had a meaning to me and which took everything away from me I deeply loved – again and again...

How could I be sure it would not tear me into pieces some day?

Because I always survived?

Because I should already get used to it?

Because I had already spent more than one thousand and five hundred years alive up till that day?

Time enough to get used to it?

No!

I couldn't get used to it...

Instead, I – the immortal – grieved for her – the mortal, for the sweet illusion of bliss and love and for me, who should have been aware of the fact that it would have ended that way anyway some day.

But was there really a difference between losing her today and losing her somewhen later?

Was there really a difference between the pain and the emptiness I felt today and the pain and the emptiness I would feel somewhen later?

Was it easier to mourn about a lost love if it happened on another day?

Somewhen later?

And what was 'later' supposed to mean in the end?

Ten years? Thirty? Or maybe fifty?

Equal how long it would have lasted, it would always just have been a blink of an eye, a single breath of air measured by all those years I had lived up till now, by everything I had seen up till now and by everything I was supposed to see within a far distant and uncertain future.

Nevertheless I could hardly bear the thought of leaving Esther behind, of having to bury her here in this place.

She looked still so pretty, so innocent, so sweet...

I still felt her burying her fingers within my hair, her lips breathing kisses in my ear and her soft and warm skin when she nestled up against me to present me with something I never had dreamt about being worth to earn it – herself...

Esther!

Still reluctant to accept her death I knew I had to anyhow.

With sunset getting closer, a chilling breeze sprung up, carried over from the open sea. I shivered within my meanwhile totally seawater-soaked clothes and I knew I could not longer stay here, equal how much I longed for doing so and despite the fact that I would not die from getting me a cold...

I had no choice...

I had to leave...

For one last time I breathed a kiss upon those sweet, but now so pale lips of the woman I kept within my arms, then I decided to bury her right here on the spot, close to that enchanting cave with its pool of water shimmering silvery during full moon nights. I was convinced her soul would rest peacefully in this beautiful place she had loved so well.

There were enough stones lying spread all around me I could use to pile up a plain grave above her and while I did so tears were running down my dusty cheeks from time to time until I had finished my mournful work.

I forced me not to look back when I started to climb up the steep path again with my hands trembling and my eyes tired, hot and dry, the same hungry, thirsty and exhausted, very well aware that I had not much time left if I wanted to reach the ship and if I wanted to change my life...

But was this what I really wanted?

I wasn't sure about it anymore...

All alone and desperate like I felt, the thought of leaving everything behind I had left, being familiar to me, suddenly appeared to me to be strange and senseless...

* * *

It was late after sunset when I returned to our camp and I hoped no one would come across me, no one would ask me annoying questions about my having been away for a rather long time, and no one would have the want to keep me company tonight.

It was nothing but wishful thinking and I found my hopes betraying me as soon as I entered my tent – I had already sensed one of my brothers waiting for me inside...

"So, as I see, you made your decision, didn't you?" Kronos lay upon my bed and beheld me, half in amusement and half appraisingly: "Looking at you, brother, it seems it had not been an easy decision to make, eh?"

I lowered my gaze unwilling to start another discussion with him at this moment. Instead I reached out for the carafe of fresh water and a cup and replied: "Why are you here? Of course not, to ask for my condition, am I right?"

"Barely! You are right! I'm just interested in one particular question..."

"That would be?"

"Where have you been?"

"You're sure, you don't know? I would guess you do..." My answer must have sounded that sharp and bitter that not even Kronos could have missed its undertone.

He laughed and sat up – holding Esther's slim and fine adorned dagger within his right, the strand of her black hair within his left – then he remarked with cocked eyebrows: "Any problems with your little wild cat, brother? Is it your blood soaking the sheets of your bed or hers?" I kept silent and he went on: "Let's make me a guess! It's yours! That's what I already thought. So, she gulled you!" He shrugged and added: "I told you to take her as your slave and not as your lover. But it's strange enough how she could escape you just one day after you found her! May I ask – did you find her? Again?"

I felt my sword within my hand before I really got aware of what I wanted to do.

"Yes, indeed", I hissed, barely able to restrain myself; "I found her. At the foot of the cliffs. She jumped! So, tell me, how afraid must she have been of you to make jumping down the cliffs her only way out? Know what? The pillowy sand down the cliffs prevented her from dying immediately! You're aware of what this means, are you? Her agony was painful and lasted unbearable long! She went through hell on earth and you caused her said hell, _brother_!"

"Those mortals are much too fragile! You should know that as well, Methos, shouldn't you? As I remember, you slew a few more than only one or two dozen of them yourself as well. And, tell me, why do you blame me? Was I supposed to know she would jump down the cliffs? Just because she spent a handful of nights within my bed instead of yours...?"

"You knew that..."

"...you loved her?" Kronos stared at me icily and said: "What do you think? Make a guess! Of course, I knew it! First, it was just an anticipation, but when you returned, figuring out that I took her for my own pleasure, I got the certainty!" He drew his sword, twinkling in the half-light, but he made no effort to attack me: "You know the same like me that fighting against me would not provide an advantage for you. So why make the try?"

"Who told you I would want said advantage?"

"You would never waste your life!"

"Sure about this, brother?" I taunted: "Maybe you err!" The sword within my hand trembled, maybe it was just my hand, and if it had been just about me I would not have hesitated to lunge at Kronos, but I was curious: "Well, before I will go on wasting my life, as you named it, answer me one question – did it satisfy you to take Esther and Cassandra away from me? Or was it all about something totally different?"

"Methos, to be honest, you're much too worthy for me to watch you being converted by such random broads!"

"Converted?" I beheld Kronos and shook my head with a weary smile: "You really believe in your own words? That it needed Esther and Cassandra to get aware of how deeply I meanwhile loathe all of this?" I made a gesture including my tent and with it the whole camp: "No, brother, I needed no help to get an awareness like that!"

"When? While you were busy with killing all those innocent mortals together with us? Means your brothers? While you were busy with making eyes at your concubine? Or while you were busy with mourning after your little courtesan throughout the whole day?"

Without thinking about the consequences any more I lunged at Kronos within this moment. I knew that everything – this fight, my life – could possibly find a rapid ending, but I did not care any longer.

My blade hit Kronos' with all the impact I was able to find. Anger, grief and exhaustion burnt inside me like a fierce fire, out of control, untamable, and I felt like being obsessed by only one single thought – to end this smoldering for so long dispute for ever.

Thereby I did not notice that he only warded my flourishes off and that he let it happen that I disclosed my effeteness to him.

The damn fool I had been...

Not till I stumbled upon something behind me – perhaps one of the small tables – and ruggedly hit the floor I got aware how stupid I really had been.

I panted for air, drenched in sweat, and thanks to this fight I felt my weakness and my exhaustion even more than throughout the whole day.

While my hand carefully felt for my sword I saw Kronos' blade slowly lowering down on me until its tip reached my throat. Still out of gasp I stared at him – the same surprised, determined and fearful – until I finally closed my eyes somewhen, waiting for the last strike which would end my life, take my head and provide Kronos with a powerful quickening.

Nothing of this happened...

Instead, I felt how the blade got drawn back. Kronos beheld me, half pitiful and half contented, while he reached out his hand for me, without saying one single word, to help me with getting up.

With a shrug he prepared for leaving but just before I could breathe a sigh of relief he turned round again wearing an ambiguous smile upon his lips.

Something slim and silvery got tossed through the whole tent and hit what it was supposed to hit – me...

It was Esther's dagger and it pierced my chest for the second time that day. I gasped for air and tried to reach my bed before I would collapse, not really certain about what was worse – the pain or the awareness of having failed again.

To die once a day should, in fact, have been enough, I told myself with a hint of sarcasm and very well aware that it would not be Esther this time I would find myself at the mercy of, but Kronos. Rerunning said experience for a second time in one day was neither necessary nor was it excusable.

Kronos went down on a knee beside me, a knowing smile upon his lips while he watched me dying: "Maybe you're willing, now, to pay me a little attention, brother. Listen to me carefully! I've neither in mind to kill you nor will I allow you to leave. As soon as you are back I expect you to join me within my tent! Then you will tell me everything about your little excursion and with daybreak we will ride and do what we are supposed to do best. And, believe me, Methos, you don't have a choice..."

He withdrew the dagger from the wound and watched how my life ebbed away for the second time that day. I had no doubt about him enjoying it...

* * *

Remaining alone!

Had I ever longed for it that deep? As much as I tried I couldn't remember it...

The more intense I felt the want for it when we returned to our camp several days later.

As always the raid, the pillage and the killing had been successful, as always we had been accompanied by fear, fright and infestation and as always death and slavery had been the fate of all those having been unlucky enough to cross paths with us...

As always everything had been as always – except me...

Only a few days ago it was that those we had just assaulted provided me with their hospitality, allowed me to spend the night with them and shared their supplies and their tales with me. Most of them were dead now and the rest was meant to be sold to the first slave trader we would come across.

Shame was everything I felt about the role I played within this game of blood and death...

No Contentness, no want to celebrate tonight or to share the prey, and no desire to know one of my 'brothers' close to me.

We had barely reached the camp when I already tore the mask off my face tossing it away with a curse upon my lips and all the disgust I felt against myself.

My hands and forearms were still covered with dried blood. The same applied to my face and my once white cape and clothes.

I did not wait for Kronos, Silas and Caspian to follow me, but jumped off my horse, left it to the approaching slaves to take care of it, to feed and water it and to rub it down, and went straight over to my tent.

Due to a porch it was chilly inside and nothing reminded of the fight Kronos and I had just a few days ago.

When I had a look around my gaze found my bed and it appeared more than inviting to me to crawl amongst its cushions and sheets but then I remembered all the blood upon my face and my hands and I shivered while thinking of possibly falling asleep without having gotten rid of it before.

With a sigh I threw off my cape, searched for some clean clothes and sneaked out of my tent and the camp again – over to the cliffs and down the path straight to the beach where I had buried Esther.

I had no idea what it was dragging me there, but to me it seemed to be the only way to free myself from everything I had committed and experienced throughout the bygone days.

But before I could free myself from all those memories I had to free myself from my clothes to get rid of the rising nausea the smell and the sight of the dried blood caused me.

The pool of water within the small cave was shimmering from inside when I first hesitantly plunged a foot into it before I dared to slip into it completely. The water was chilly but not cold and for a split second I was convinced to sense a soft touch upon my skin.

It was an illusion! What else could it be but an illusion?

No one knew about this place and no one except me stayed here, but when I closed my eyes to surrender to the liberating feeling of finally remaining on my own the gentle touch recurred. Nearly as if soft fingertips would caress my cheeks and clean my face.

A smile found its way upon my lips – the same bitter and relieved.

Maybe there was more than one way leading towards immortality and perhaps it was that Esther's soul chose this enchanting place to find eternal peace. I wished this to be the truth, even if I never believed in gods, in miracles and in everything supernatural.

Maybe this place owned its own and very special kind of magic.

When I got out of the water after a while my exhaustion and my resignation had vanished and given way to something different – the awareness that no one would keep me any more from leaving the camp and the life I had to live there.

I slipped into my clean and dry clothes in silence, calm and aware of what I wanted.

Before I went to leave I said silently good-bye to Esther once again and I knew as long as I would be able to keep a memory of her deep inside me she would also be immortal...

* * *

As secretly as I had sneaked out of the camp I returned and I was convinced that no one had even noticed my absence.

I looked after my horse to be sure it would be rested, fed and watered. It was a part of me, a kind of friend and I knew it wouldn't let out the slightest sound if we would take flight together tonight.

Back inside my tent I rapidly enlightened some candles and a handful of oil-lamps and gathered all those things being possibly helpful and of use while being on the run:

A bundle of clothes and blankets, water, dried fruits and what else eatable I was able to find. Of course, my weapons, enough gold and jewels to pay not only the captain of a ship if necessary, and my diary.

The diary, yes!

A passion I felt caught by as long as I could remember, kept by me since the beginning of writing. It was a strange and the same pleasing feeling to know that none of my memories and thoughts would get lost as long as I could keep them within said diary. I felt extraordinarily calm about it although I knew that all those thoughts and memories could also cost me my head some day.

If my chronicles should ever end up within the wrong hands...

Barely probable, because I was hell-bent to avoid this by any means thinkable.

And really: Up till my first encounter with MacLeod in Paris no one but me had ever had a look upon my notes. Not within five thousand years...

With a sigh I tied my belongings together until I had two equal balanced bundles, ready to leave as soon as possible.

While I had another look around my tent, having been my home for so many years, my gaze found Esther's dagger still lying on the floor unnoticed. I picked it up and beheld it for a moment, not quite sure if I should take it with me as well – until some strands of my long, black hair fell into my eyes.

In a sudden decision I took the sharp little blade and started to cut off strand after strand of my hair. A very liberating experience because every strand falling down to the floor seemed to be another part of my previous life.

I paused for a moment when I sensed one of my 'brothers' approaching. If there was anything I ever pleaded for it was that it might not be Kronos.

"Methos! Don't you come, brother?" I inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. It was only Silas who went in: "Your share in the prey..." He stopped short when he got me, standing in the middle of my tent, a blade within my hand, cutting off thick strands of my hair: "What are you doing?"

"Something I should have done long ago..."

"Your hair? You're in grief then? Is it about the girl Kronos took from you? I see..."

"No, my friend, she's not the only reason, well", I sighed: "maybe she is." I sighed again: "I could make a try to explain it all to you, but I'm not quite sure if you could get me."

Silas let his gaze wandering about all around my tent until he found my bundled belongings beside my bed. He frowned and asked: "Going somewhere?"

"I..." Hesitating I let my hand sink and turned round to face him: "Yes! I have to go! Tonight!" I lowered my gaze and added: "And I've not in mind to come back..."

"Does Kronos know?"

"No! And the longer he doesn't know, the better! Silas, you are my friend, my brother, and I could always trust in you. Now I trust in you for not betraying me. Kronos must not learn about my disappearance until it's not avoidable anymore. I want to get as many miles as possible between him and me till sunrise and, please, don't try to change my mind..."

"But we're the horsemen! Without you..."

"...life will still go on and the world will remain the same. You are a warrior, Silas, you will find a way to survive – and so will Kronos and Caspian. You all are not in need of my skills any more."

"You're our brother!"

"Am I, really?" I smiled a bitter smile and replied shaking my head: "I don't think so. Not any more and if I should err there will be a chance of meeting again, I guess."

"Promised?"

I nodded: "Promised!"

I had not the slightest idea if Silas really understood what I tried to tell him, but he seemed honestly to feel sorry that I wanted to leave our brotherhood which led us all around two continents and uncountable countries for about almost a thousand years.

The four Horsemen of the Apocalypse – always accompanied by blood and death...

I knew, whatever it was I felt for Cassandra and Esther – the love, the grief, the trust – was a part of me.

As well as the demon who hid his face under a terrible mask.

As well as Death to whom it seemed so easy to wipe out a life by just a single strike of his sword.

As well as the man who got that effortlessly high on the smell of fear and blood...

To think about this felt the same frightening and thrilling and I was very well aware that I had to leave now if I wanted to avoid getting consumed by this weird kind of inebriation again.

Silas freed me from making a decision. The giant dragged me over to him and embraced me that tight that I feared to run short of breath. A mix of sadness and awareness got mirrored upon his round face when he realized that he would not be able to change my mind equal what he would try to convince me: "I won't betray you, brother..."

He left my tent without saying another word and I remained alone again, still in doubt about me doing the right thing. Silas was my friend, the only one I had always trusted, so would Kronos take his head if he could not get mine?

I pushed all these thoughts aside.

I was still here and if I would not hurry I wouldn't get a second chance to get away from here unnoticed.

So I rapidly went on cutting off the last strands of my hair until my fingers only slipped through unfamiliar short curls. I smiled. It felt right...

Afterwards I hurried with placing my weapons – the sword and the dagger – to my belt, with wrapping my cape around my shoulders and with dragging its hood deep into my face, then I grasped my bundles.

I had a last look around, then I took one of the oil-lamps, emptied its content on the floor, grasped a second lamp and smashed it to the ground.

Kronos did err – I still had a choice and I made it...


	9. Reflection: Findings

**Reflection: Findings**

* * *

_Cardinal Giovanni: I thought God wouldn't let this happen to a true Christian._

_Methos: You know, Giovanni, I saw Christ teach, I saw Christ heal, you, you self-centered son of a bitch, are NO Christian!  
_

_(Highlander: The Source)_

* * *

**Austria – The former province Noricum - Present (Summer 2012)**

Remembrances!

Images from another life, or shall I say from many other lives…?

Memories...

Of long bygone days filled with passion, power and bloodshed, of a sweet, but long-lost love, and of long ago made decisions necessary for not to destroy myself...

Who would I be today if I would have made a different decision back then in the days of the Bronze Age?

Certainly, not the one I am now, certainly, a different kind of character...

It would definitely not have been impossible that I would have lost my head to Kronos somewhen, but it was much more probable that the myth, the horsemen were surrounded by, would finally have been destroyed as well some day...

By a mortal, by an immortal – not worth to spend too many thoughts about it.

Probably it's not even worth at all wasting thoughts any more about the ifs, the buts and the belikes, because nothing remained of this time and no one is left who had watched with his or her own eyes what had happened back then – which, at least, means not much witnesses were left who had seen it.

Nothing remains forever – except all those relics lots of eager archaeologists were excavating nowadays upon every continent and all around the world regardless of possibly causing damage or benefit to the place or its former purpose.

Nothing remains forever – except all those graves the same eager archaeologists are searching for feverishly until they finally find them, hell-bent to open and plunder them in a way not even the tomb raiders of ancient times would have done or even wanted it.

More and more often they do not even spare the dead from getting displayed in semi historical exhibitions – their mortal remains torn out of their graves, betrayed of their eternal peace, robbed of their belongings and finally exposed to the irreverent stares of all those flabbergasted visitors.

As if there is any difference between defiling a grave of ancient times or a grave of our times. It's the same, but no one cares as long as the cover of scientific and historical significance gets spread over it.

I have to admit I use to visit exhibitions and museums as well, but out of a totally different impulse. Whenever I go to have a look at all those relics – having been nothing different back in ancient times but the same junk we keep in our houses and flats today – I ask myself if some pieces of that stuff might have belonged to me some day and – if not – to whom instead...

Somebody I may have known?

Thinking about it, about having survived more than five millennia, seems to be really weird.

Even to me – at least sometimes...

Well, as it seems I made the right decisions which – in the end – turned me into the one I am today. The Bronze Age, the Horsemen of the Apocalypse – I finally left it all behind. The same applied to Kronos, Silas and Caspian – they are gone and, like MacLeod named it, they are history now.

Only me and Cassandra are left over, having outlived centuries and even Kronos' newly try to destroy the world and us with it. She still hates me and I'm very well aware of the fact that she will make another try to take my head if we will cross paths again.

Maybe I err and she won't, but it might be better to be prepared for everything...

Cassandra!

I never thought of seeing her again up till that day when she showed up with MacLeod and even if she hates me and tried to kill me I'm glad she survived. I had always been glad to know she escaped successfully but I never got the chance to tell her.

I'm still not quite sure if Cassandra hates me, because she hated herself for loving me, or if she hates me, because I betrayed her and I'm also still not quite sure if Esther had been right.

Did I love Cassandra?

It is idle thinking about it any longer.

There would never be an answer to that question – not anymore...

With a sigh I decided that it was time to leave.

It was, indeed, more than just improbable that one of the archaeologists would stray up here to this picturesque place high above the town and the excavations, but I wasn't eager for answering questions dealing with why I found myself up here and wherefore I found myself up here.

In addition it was possible, and even more probable, that these estates – the meadows, the forest and the source having once been the property of a rich Roman satirist – now belonged to another owner and I was definitely not interested in making the acquaintance of an enraged farmer being hell-bent of chasing me off of his freehold.

I had one last view over the widespread deep circular valley and for a split second both pictures melted – the one I saw in front of me and the one I kept deep inside me as a welcomed memory.

All those scientists and archaeologists would never come to know how beautiful and how wide this place and the city really had been...

Streets, tracks and settlements prevented the ruins from ever getting excavated in total and even if it might have been possible they would always remain ruins, not able to match those wonderful memories of a man who once strolled though its lanes and who knew how beautiful this place had been long before the town and the pretty villages had been built nestling up against the hillsides now.

The silent purl of the nearby source made me once again forget about my planned departure and while I knelt down by its side letting its fresh water run over my hands I was hardly willing to believe my eyes any more.

Beside me, midst the moistened soil, lay a little trinket having obviously resisted any try of digging it out up till now.

Maybe because it was easy to overlook, because of its size, or, because no one would think about finding it right here on this spot since it was more or less impossible that it got lost up here.

It was a cameo – a little piece of jewelry like many Romans had loved it – and the same it was something I would never have expected here as well. Rapidly I cleaned it from dirt and mud and stopped short. I did not err, I knew this cameo – and I had not believed in ever seeing it again for centuries.

So it happened that I found myself thrown back in time once again this day to a time and a place a lot of people dreamt and wished to be able to experience it for just one single day or even for just one single hour of their lifetime:

The Roman Empire during its high point of its glory and spread being the same its highest point of its vice, its corruption and its decadence.

A smile appeared upon my lips while I beheld the little trinket.

I knew it, I even kept it but it never belonged to me...

Actually, there was rather less which I had been allowed to name it my property while I lived within one of the most powerful and most impressive empires of all ages – which was possibly due to the fact that I myself was the property of others at that time.

Years, no, centuries had passed by since I decided to turn my back on my 'brothers' and on the Horsemen of the Apocalypse – and with them on bloodshed and killing.

Centuries I had used to get behind the secrets and the wonders our world provided us with and, of course, to get behind the secret of that one single wonder which kept me alive for meanwhile more than three thousand years.

My journeys led me to Tibet, China and Britannia, still named Albion within those days.

I witnessed the fall of Troy and helped to free my beloved country of Egypt from the Hyksos and their cruel kings.

I learned and studied with philosophers and architects, with poets and astronomers with mathematicians and priests.

And I saw Rome rising and growing. The city amongst the seven hills. The village meant to rule the biggest part of the known world for more than one thousand years, meant to guide the fortunes of the empire through its legions, its efficiency and its law. The legendary spot of land which still inspires historians, filmmakers and writers.

Not to forget about all the believers going on a pilgrimage to the Eternal City.

Without knowing anything about HIM, who they praise, and his having been so different from everything his followers want to represent today.

I had been there, I heard him preach and hung on his lips like so many others, and I saw him die – shortly before I came to see the Eternal City – that Eternal Rome.

As a slave...

As the slave of a man who sometimes forgot about me being his slave, a man who could have become the leader of that unequaled empire.

I had been the slave of senator Valerius Petronius and as it turned out he had not been the worst master fate had chosen for me since I owned a lot of latitude and – much more valuable – his unconfined trust.

Up till that day when the inevitable happened: Drusilla!


	10. Close to Death

**The Roman Empire**

**Chapter 8: Close to Death**

* * *

_Kristen: Who the hell are you?_

_Methos: A man who was born long before the age of chivalry._

_(Highlander: TV series - from episode 'Chivalry')  
_

* * *

**Rome – 37 A. D.**

Another immortal!

Through a more and more numbing veil of pain, nausea and the excruciating awakening out of that short instant of peace and quietness death had provided me with I could feel his presence.

He must be close enough to watch everything what happened to me, but why was he just watching?

Whereon was he waiting?

What did he expect?

Unable to move, unable to blink and unable to speak I inwardly pleaded for this stranger to cause me a merciful and swift passing.

Everything was welcome to me at this moment – even the distinct certainty of soon losing my head – instead of being forced to endure this torment for another couple of days, always aware that I couldn't die, that I would return to life just to return to another day of suffering and pain.

If there would have been a single spark of hope for dying I would have embraced death willingly.

So, yes, if this stranger wanted my head, he should feel free to take it.

Everything was welcome to me at this moment, because I knew there would be no other deliverance for me but this.

I gasped for air, every single of my breaths being sheer anguish, because they weren't able to fill my lungs.

I made a desperate try to speak, but that swollen thing somewhere inside my mouth refused obedience to me. It would not even be able to moisten my rough, chapped and split lips.

I tried to open my eyes, but they were that hot, dry and swollen that I barely accomplished to raise their heavy and sticking lids.

The skin upon my face felt hot and dry as well, like being burnt, and even without being able to see or touch my face I knew that it was encrusted with dried blood and smeared with smut and tears.

My back seemed to be aflame and I did not dare to imagine what sight would wait for me if I might have been able to look at it. But it was not only my back which seemed to be aflame. My whole body seemed to glow from the inside, my skin hot and dry...

Fever?

Maybe...!

Even if this was supposed to be impossible...?

Could it be possible that those inexplicable and surely a bit unearthly powers which accompanied our immortality might not be able to heal my heavily maltreated body the same fast and efficient like usual?

And if it was that way, what would the meaning of it be supposed to be?

I made a hesitant try to move, but the white-hot pain, which seemed to reach every single of my nerves, even choked the scream willing to escape my lips.

Each tries to just move one of my fingers sent another wave of racking pains through my body. My eyes flashed open in pure panic and I bit my lips that vehemently until I tasted blood upon my tongue.

Out of a sudden awareness I knew what happened to me and I asked myself how much pain I, an immortal, would be able to suffer, how long a torment like this could last until I would finally lose my mind.

Maybe I already had lost it...

Be it as it may – I had no chance to escape. Neither the pain nor those memories which came to me like another wave of torture.

I could still remember the faces of the men, ordinary soldiers, who laughed and joked, who drove each other on while they forced nails through the carpus of each of my hands and my feet and who waited whenever I passed out until I came around again.

I heard myself scream until I had no voice any more and I had just one wish left – to be mortal that this pain would finally reach its end...

But I was an immortal...

And even if I would die, death would not keep me company for long...

Yes, I was an immortal.

And I was a slave.

A slave of the noble senator Valerius Petronius and the crime I had committed was refusing a demand of his wife...

* * *

_The order coming from the emperor was unmistakable and the return to Rome meant nothing different but that Tiberius, sitting far away from the center of the world upon the isle of Capri, had followed the suggestions his advisors made to him._

_The proconsul of the northern provinces, Valerius Petronius, got retrieved from his duties to reclaim his seat within the senate of Rome after years of his absence. Together with him his whole household returned to the pulsating heart of the most powerful realm on earth as well as his wife._

_The order caused different emotions within all involved persons and so the return happened much to the pleasure of our mistress and much to the displeasure of our master._

_Both – her joy and his anger about the decision the godly Tiberius made – based on the same reason._

_To Valerius the isolation and the quietness the northern provinces provided him with had been very welcoming, because he had been able to do at his pleases and no one would ever have been able to get behind his secret – of being part of a conspiracy willing to dispose the Emperor and to come to power himself._

_It was not a forlorn plan, because Valerius Petronius was wary, ruthless and influential enough to really be successful if everything went according to plan._

_Maybe this matter of fact was one of many facts he owed to the marriage with rich, devious and diplomatic Drusilla. She compensated her lack of beauty with insistence and intelligence and just a few who had ever refused a wish of hers had gotten away without suffering heavy punishment._

_Drusilla had always and solely been interested in one single aspect – her personal welfare and her personal concupiscence._

_To her the return to Rome meant the same the return to a life the loneliness and the quietness of the northern provinces had not been able to provide her with – no bacchanals, no revelries, no vice..._

_To us, the slaves of the household, the return to Rome meant pure pleasure, because it meant also that our mistress would turn her whole attention, without restrictions, towards her personal delight and we would finally get freed from her strange demands and desires._

_Valerius and Drusilla had agreed about not sleeping together, or better with each other, several months ago and I knew that both used to share their nights with slaves of the household down to their whim – equal if it was a boy or a girl._

_I must have been a lucky one, because I always escaped such an experience and never ended neither within the arms of my mistress nor within the bed of my master._

_Maybe it was, because Valerius cared more about me as a friend or an intimate than as a slave. At least, that was the way he used to treat me and I never hesitated to use his 'friendship' for my advantage as well, although I always kept in mind that I was still nothing but a slave..._

_Well, keeping it in mind and using this advantage carefully provided me enough free space to do a lot of things I wanted to do beside my duties – as long as I was willing to keep my master company during uncountable sleepless night, as long as I was willing to ensure him of my unconditionally loyalty and as long as I advised him to trust the other conspirators._

_As long until Drusilla decided that she was the only one my undivided attention should belong to..._

* * *

_It was one of those hot summer nights the city seemed to suffocate due to the heat and due to the perspirations of its nearly one million inhabitants, when Drusilla decided to send for me._

_Valerius left early in the afternoon and no one expected him to be back before sunrise. He would spend the night either with his companions, within a brothel or within the thermae and the mistress – driven by her own unsatisfied longing, her boredom and a not really cooled down night – sought company._

_She wanted to see me and she was angry when I finally stood within her chamber having obviously been delayed: "You're late! What was it holding you back?"_

_Drusilla welcomed me with a gaze out of her green eyes worth matching any whore of any brothel all around the city. Her hair – usually skillfully pinned up – fell down to the middle of her back and flew over her shoulders while her nightdress gave more away than it veiled._

_Every other woman wearing such a dress like that, like a hint of a nothingness, during a night like that, would have enlightened my desire and my longing – equal if she would have been a slave, a free citizen or even a noble woman – and I would have been eager to satisfy every wish she might have had and to cause her every pleasure she might have asked for – but this did not apply for Drusilla..._

_There was nothing within this world being able to convince me to give her what she demanded of me – nothing!_

_So, nevertheless, I tried to stay calm: "Excuse me, mistress, how could I've known you would send after me at this hour. I had been fast asleep..."_

"_Really? Well, maybe I should not have sent after you but just seeking you out within your chamber, hmm? What do you think?"_

"_Maybe..."_

_She smiled: "You're a slave of our household. How long are you with us?"_

"_For two years, mistress."_

"_For two years? Really? And you always kept out of my way?"_

"_As it seems. Your husband, my master..."_

"_Keep quiet! My husband is a fool who's much more interested in politics and boys. He would never notice such a pretty face like yours – not even if he would find you lying in his bed ready for him to take you like a sweet, ripe fruit!"_

_What a charmingly comparison!_

_Drusilla must have guessed my thoughts. She cocked her head and beheld me wearing a strange smile: "As it seems you're not enthused about the idea of serving me or Valerius as our catamite, hmm?"_

"_This might be due to the fact that I'm not able to take any pleasure in thinking about it at all..."_

"_Is that so? Well, then it's poor Valerius and lucky Drusilla! I don't want you as my catamite! I want you as my lover." She reached her hand out for me and pointed at the place beside her: "Come, my sweet young love, there is nothing to be said against you keeping me company tonight instead of one of the slave girls..."_

_All I did was shaking my head._

_An answer Drusilla was not willing to accept: "There is no need to be bashful. Valerius is not interested in what I do if he's not at home. Tell me, what's your name?"_

"_Lisias, mistress..." _

_There was no need for her or anyone else within the household to know who I was and what I was and it was not uncommon for an immortal to live under another name, because there was no need for any other immortal as well to know who I was..._

"_And where are you from?"_

"_From Greece, mistress..."_

"_Well then, Lisias from Greece, what do you think? Isn't this night too beautiful to spend it alone, to spend it staring at the ceiling of your chamber? I cannot stand the idea of sleeping alone tonight..."_

_Drusilla got up and made some steps towards me. Her sheer nightdress had already slipped down her shoulders, when she stopped in front of me. Her eyes were dark from passion and lust and involuntarily I moved back a step or two._

"_No..."_

_It was just a whisper, but she got very well what it was having just silently left my lips._

"_What did you say?" Her voice sounded the same cold and surprised._

"_Please, mistress, let me go. I'm not the one you long for, I can assure you about it..."_

"_You're not? Well then, tell me to whom these dark and soft eyes belong, instead, I let my gaze sink into right now! Tell me to whom these beautiful carved lips belong, instead, promising so much more than just sweet kisses and pure pleasure. I would guess both belongs to you, my sweet Greek slave! Oh, I can assure you, you are exactly the one I long for..."_

_I shied away from her again. "No!"_

_She grimaced and she gave me a vicious smirk: "No? Are you sure? I guess you're very well aware of what happens to a slave who refuses a demand of his master or his mistress, aren't you? Let's see what will happen to you!"_

_Even if I was aware of what could possibly happen to me I wasn't willing to believe in it until Drusilla started to tear her nightdress into pieces, until she started to scratch her face and her skin with her fingernails and until she started screaming as if she was close to dying. Afterwards she hurled herself into my arms, buried her fingernails into my cheeks and screamed again until the biggest part of the household showed up within her chamber..._

_The punishment for a slave who tried to ravish his mistress was death and death in this case meant crucifixion..._

_No one believed in me that I never would have dared to harm her..._

_No one except Valerius' young cousin – his name was Caius Petronius..._

* * *

"Hey, you two over there, come here and get him off the cross! Immediately!"

A voice – obviously used to issue orders – reached me like coming from out of a far distance.

It did not last long until some kind of brisk activity broke loose around me. I asked myself about the why until another wave of sheer pain seemed to tear me into pieces.

Once again everything around me became dark and silent.

* * *

I woke up although I had never expected to escape the darkness and the silence ever again which had graciously wrapped me in, but there was no doubt – I was still alive.

And not only that...

I found myself being able to move and to breathe.

It needed some effort but I succeeded in opening my eyes to have a careful look around.

I stopped short – this place was neither the place of execution nor was it a prison or a torture chamber...

Soft light fell through a small window and a door into the small chamber I found myself within. It was neither dazzling nor was it bright as daylight but it was damped as if it did not come from the garden but from the atrium belonging to this house.

My head rested upon some soft cushions instead of rough wood and only now I realized that I must lie face down on a bed amongst clean, white sheets.

Beside my bed stood a heated brazier and opposite to it stood a skillful forged candle holder enlightening the beautiful frescos adorning the walls. It scented from roses and for a slight little moment I thought this impossible to be true.

The same moment I heard a voice behind me and just a split second later I sensed once again the presence of another immortal.

"He regains consciousness, master!"

"That is good news! You can leave us alone now! And take care that no one will dare to disturb us."

"As you wish, master."

It became silent again for a while and I supposed one of the men of having left. The other remained with me and finally addressed me: "As it seems you were lucky today. So the 'Game' is not over for you. At least not now..."

"The 'Game'?" I wanted my question to sound cynical but all I was able to let out was a hoarse caw.

"You're one of us, young man. Not even your momentarily condition is able to hide your true nature from other immortals."

"Why didn't you take my head? It would have been salvation for me and an easy quickening for you...?"

"Young fool! Are you not aware that there are no witnesses allowed? And of what sense should it be? Taking your head without granting you a chance for keeping it?"

"Who are you? A philosopher?"

"No! Not really!" The other laughed – a friendly laugh, not arrogant or sneering: "My name is Marcus Constantinus. I'm a soldier, a commander of the imperial troops. Name yourself lucky that I stay in Rome at the moment and not at any of our borders defending the realm in the name of our divine emperor."

"I see! Well, I will make a sacrifice for him then", I taunted.

"That won't be necessary. Better tell me who you are."

"Call me Lisias! Oh, by the way! While we're just busy with exchanging kindnesses – enlighten me why I'm able to move and to breathe again and why I'm here..."

"Before I will enlighten you, as you named it, I want you to have a draft of this. You will feel better afterwards. Promised!"

Constantinus handed a cup of thinned, spiced and chilled wine over to me and when the first drops met my lips and my tongue I got aware that I had lots of other needs but making taunting remarks and acting the cynical fool.

"Better", the Roman asked me.

"Much better", I replied thankfully.

"Good! And I promise, I will answer all your questions – provided that I know the answer – but first I want to look after your wounds."

I just nodded and closed my eyes, while Constantinus carefully touched and beheld my feet, my wrists and my back. I supposed him not to miss that I winced even under the lightest touch.

Of course, I did!

Being immortal meant, indeed, that wounds and injuries were supposed to heal rapidly, that we got spared from disease and lingering illness and that we recovered quickly from exertion and strain, but it did not mean that we were supposed to be freed from feeling pain and agony or to be freed from all those memories getting hurt or dying caused us.

There were days I wished I could get rid of them – of all of them – but it all belonged to my life...

The last part of me Constantinus carefully scanned was my face.

He seemed to be contented: "All those wounds already started to heal and – to be honest – they do better than I would have expected, but nevertheless you will still have to stay patient for a while. For two or three days I suppose. Oh, by the way", he cleared his throat: "what do you want to happen to these?"

I opened my eyes and beheld what it was he kept within his hands:

The nails the soldiers had forced through my feet and hands.

"I want to keep them! As a memory", I replied.

My voice must have sounded cold and cynical again because I felt the Roman staring at my back in pure disbelief.

I was glad of not having told him who I really was, because it was obvious that there was still something hidden deep within my innermost of what I had been once:

Death himself...

We kept silent for a while until I asked: "What happens next?"

"If you want to you can stay with me for a while but bound to one condition: To Rome, to the senate and to the emperor you will be my slave. To me you will be my friend. It's up to you to make this decision or to leave it."

"What's with Valerius and his honorable wife Drusilla?"

"Well", Marcus Constantinus sat down at the foot of my bed and went on: "the good Valerius Petronius demanded those accusations his dearly beloved wife Drusilla made to be thoroughly certified. What he did not take into consideration was that she not only slept around with the slaves of her household but also with a handful of well-known senators, musicians, gladiators and others. Amongst them had also been some of the conspirators her husband was befriended with. As you for sure can imagine that was some interesting piece of truth which did not really please our emperor to-be – Caligula..."

"Who would blame him for doing so?"

"You should not scoff at it! You were lucky things didn't turn out worse! Valerius, Drusilla and her whole household got imprisoned – only two days after they sentenced you to death! Irony of fate I name it, because, as it seems, the cross saved you from losing your head!"

"Thank you for reminding me! I will make a try to remember anything positive about it somewhen later!" I hesitated for a moment, then I added: "I accept your offer. At least for a while."

"I'm glad to hear that!" Constantinus got up: "I will leave you alone. You should sleep and rest now. As soon as you'll feel better I will send food, wine, water and clean clothes over here. And after having had dinner it's up to you if you feel strong enough to join me within my bath – together with two of my well-chosen girls..."

I fell asleep, not really getting his words anymore.

Back then I had no idea that our friendship would outlive the Roman Empire as well as all of its emperors...


	11. The Proconsul

**The Roman Empire**

**Chapter 9: The Proconsul**

* * *

_Alexa: Why do you want to go out with me?_

_Methos: Because the alternative is unthinkable.**  
**_

_(Highlander: TV series - from episode 'Timeless')_

* * *

**Nicomedia, Bithynia – 57 A. D.**

Rome!

Eternal Rome! Eternal City!

The true inheritrix of Troy! Cradle of the Empire!

Mother of Legends! Realm of Emperors! Conqueror and Vindicator! Multi-ethnic State!

Grand and cruel, patient and merciless, striking and unpredictable...

Giving consideration to its largest latitude the Roman Empire – named after a once little and insignificant village settled amongst the meanwhile legendary seven hills – included all countries round the Mediterranean Sea and much more up to Britannia in the far North and a lot of erstwhile great, no major, kingdoms ended up as colonies, provinces or vassal states.

One after the other.

Bound to pay their tribute – in taxes, goods, slaves and hostages...

For good and for evil at the mercy of Rome's governors, its proconsuls and its magistrates who accomplished the orders of the Emperor and the Senate – at times with an iron hand, at times with sanity and reason and at times without a single hint of interest.

I would be forced to lie if I would claim that this Eternal Rome had not fascinated me – in its strange and unique mixture of decadence, tolerance and brutality, in its astonishing balance of magnificence and corruption and in its wonderful coexistence of people, cultures, gods and convictions.

There was barely a second place on earth at that time which suited better for an immortal to live in without attracting attention than this melting pot of the ancient world with its nearly about one million inhabitants.

And if it became necessary to leave Rome to avoid any unwelcome encounter or circumstance there were enough places, cities and colonies spread round the whole Empire worth to visit and to stay at just to return to the pulsating heart of the realm after a fairly long and adequate period of time.

That was how I finally reached Bithynia after having travelled through Gaul, Greece and Egypt for several years.

Without having the slightest hint of an idea what kind of wonder, better what kind of gift, would wait for me to find me there. A gift I would never have thought about searching for and I would never have guessed how thankful I would be for some day.

Twenty years had passed by and a lot had happened since Marcus Constantinus had rescued me from the cross and since he had saved me from secure death – in Rome, its colonies and all around the whole realm.

Valerius Petronius and the group of conspirators he belonged to got sentenced and put to death only a few days after they did that favor to me and together with him died his whole household as well as his calculating and devious wife – Drusilla.

All those eager plans of dispossessing the Emperor had been in vain and instead of a rich, influential and capable senator named Valerius Petronius the new sovereign keeping all the power necessary to rule the Eternal City and the Roman Empire in his hands was Gaius Caesar Augustus Germanicus – much better known under his more common name as Caligula...

The Emperor, Tiberius, died at the same place whereto he already had retired to many years before his death – upon the isle of Capri. Once he had left Rome he never returned and he used to communicate with the Senate only in written form. His death caused a lot of rumors and some dependable sources spread the news that when he died it was not due to natural reasons like age or illness but due to some active support by his nephew and heir Caligula.

There was a nearly desperate kind of hope that during the reign of this young man and newly Emperor he might be able to turn the dark and omnipresent shadow Tiberius had left behind into a silver lining on the horizon but as many times before this hope was condemned to die soon.

Caligula used to spread death sentences at his own discretion and killed randomly whoever he thought he should kill. None of his subjects being at his mercy could be secure of not losing his or her lives or their heads – neither an influential senator nor his own wife or even his lover. This lunatic sitting on the throne of the Empire turned my beloved Rome into a place where living became more than uncomfortable if one was an immortal and as hard as it is to admit it – it wasn't as easy anymore to love this once wonderful city...

I wasn't willing to take the risk of losing my head after more than three thousand years just because a maniac like Caligula tried to get rid of every person he found himself surrounded by...

So it happened that no one really mourned for this madman upon the Emperor's throne when a little group of conspirators decided to put an end to his reign after nearly endless three years and ten months. As it had been told it needed thirty strikes to put him to death and even after his death no one really believed that he was really dead. So it needed a while until the city and its inhabitants dared to breathe freely again.

And while the Senate debated if it might be advisable to turn the empire back into a republic the soldiers and the legions already paid homage to the new Emperor – Claudius...

No one had been in the know who the man really was who ruled the fate of the Roman Empire for nearly fourteen years, better who let his freedmen rule the fate of the Empire.

Was he a man, a fool, who had no idea what both politics and life really were about?

Was he a man not able to forget that he got betrayed of the woman he once had loved?

Was he a man, a reformer, who believed the Empire had failed, that only a new republic might be able to save Rome and who was willing to replace the same Empire with said new republic?

Or was he just a ruthless and unprincipled tyrant who loved to act both the prosecutor and the judge himself to get rid of all those he supposed to be inconvenient and dangerous to him?

There were no answers to those questions.

None, but one...

Fourteen years after he got proclaimed as to be the new ruler of the Roman Empire – more unintended than willingly – Claudius died after having relished a dish of poisoned mushrooms and now the hopes of every Roman lay upon a seventeen year old boy who got washed upon the throne just because of two aspects – the ambition and the lust for power of his mother...

Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus – a boy who barely knew the rules of discourse and who truly believed in his ability to sing, who really was convinced to be an actor and who obviously had in mind to become immortal in his own ill-minded way.

The world would come to know him as Nero, the singing emperor...

* * *

The garrison of Nicomedia found itself within a mixture of curious anticipation and buzzing with excitement because the news got spread the new proconsul would arrive within only a few days to come.

Nicomedia was the capital of the Roman province Bithynia and the domicile of the proconsul. It was settled by the sea and like the whole province it belonged to the Roman Empire since 27 B. C.

If all those rumors were supposed to be true it meant Rome would send a far-seeing man who owned a distinct sense for justice and who had always stayed uninvolved if it came to conspiracy or intrigue. I got also told that he was not afraid if it came to face the Emperor or to speak freely within the Senate.

That was why I was curious about the man and who he might be. That curious that my thoughts were much more occupied with the question who this man was who would become the new proconsul of Bithynia but with another lesson of sword fighting Constantinus wanted to provide me with today.

"Keep the blade with a firmer grip and hold it high enough to protect your neck! Losing your head has nothing to do with immortality or being mortal. Even a mortal who has never heard about immortals and the 'Game' might be able to take your head – by accident or even willingly. If this case should happen - I hope you will be spared from a fate like this - everything would be lost your personality consists of – your knowledge, your essence of life, your experiences. Never forget about it! Never!"

It was for more or less twenty years now that Marcus Constantinus forced me to think everything over I ever had learned about sword fighting, the philosophy of a fight and strategy during the bygone decades and centuries.

Again and again...

I had always been good at sword fighting, but a lot of the way I used to fight happened instinctively, following more a feeling than obeying fixed rules. My style was archaic, straight and served only one purpose – to survive. It had not always been just for survival but the Bronze Age and my life as one of the Four Horsemen, as Death, lay behind me for centuries and maybe that was one reason why I learned quickly, but was not willing to reveal how much I already had learned.

It always appeared to be much more useful to me if my combatants were not in the know about my real skills and my talents and even if I trusted Marcus Constantinus as much as I never trusted anyone else before I never let him know everything about me...

"Did you encounter many of us since your first death?"

While I asked him my question I warded another strike of my eager teacher off, dived through underneath his blade and came to stand behind him.

"Let's say I crossed paths with a number of them which does not necessarily mean that I took every head I might have been able to take." Using his vambrace he pushed my arm aside, grabbed me by my wrist and forced me to face him again: "What about you? How many immortals did you face up till now, my dear young fellow? Did you take every head you could have taken?"

I couldn't hide a smile whenever Constantinus addressed me that way, but what should I have told him?

The truth?

That I was born more than three thousand years ago?

Was it really necessary to tell him who I really was or how old I really was?

I was glad to name him my friend – equal if I did it as Methos or if I did it using my alias Lisias – and I hoped he might think likewise.

It was, indeed, a fact that he had been older than me when he came back to life after his first death so it was easy to accept when he named me his 'dear young fellow'. To me it was neither something strange nor was it something embarrassing – but rather something amusing.

Therefore I just responded: "No! Mostly I preferred avoiding a fight. Well, possibly I should have taken some more heads, but I did not know much about the 'Game' up till now and maybe I'm not really fond of chopping heads because I spilled enough blood that it may suffice for more than only one life..."

"Don't blame yourself for something you committed during another period of your lifetime. I suppose it wasn't as much blood you spilled as any soldier fighting in our glorious legions spilled in the name of Rome and its Emperor."

Constantinus gave me a wink, blocked my sword and forced me down on my knees. I did not struggle but waited for that one single moment when he loosened the grip he kept the handle of his sword with, then I pushed his hand aside and with one fluent move he felt the tip of my blade close to his neck and Esther's narrow dagger somewhere between two of his rips – supposedly close to his heart...

I grinned when I lowered both blades: "You underestimated me! Never forget that you've not vanquished your enemy until he has lost his head, Marcus Constantinus..."

"Well, in this case I should name myself lucky because I'm allowed to name you my friend, eh?" Constantinus reached his hand out and helped me getting up: "As it turns out you might be a wayward opponent and if this would have been a fight to death I would have lost."

"You would not even have realized what would have happened to you."

It wasn't supposed to happen but my words had a cold undertone. It was just a split second and I had no idea if Constantinus really got it but I did and I knew, Death still slumbered somewhere deep inside me.

All Constantinus replied was: "You amaze me..."

"You?" I let out a laugh: "Marcus Constantinus? Commander of the garrison of Nicomedia? Commander of the glorious legions of the Roman Empire? Lover of beautiful and dangerous Nefertiri? Well, if I'm able to amaze you I did everything right..." I shook some dust out of my hair and added: "And I was always convinced there is nothing left being able to astonish you..."

I stopped short and I was surprised when I realized that my friend and teacher beheld me somehow thoughtful and stern.

The moment passed by and he wrapped an arm round my shoulder and said: "This will do for today. Lesson completed! Come! Let's go! There is something we have to talk about. Something important..."

* * *

"You're going to do what?"

Constantinus had just offered me a cup made of valuable crystal, filled with spiced wine, and it nearly slipped through my fingers. I stared at him in pure disbelief.

"You got me right, my dear friend." He responded: "I will leave the garrison as soon as the replaced proconsul will return to Rome. Our new Emperor has new orders for me which will first lead me to Gaul and afterwards over to Britannia. In addition it is time for both of us going separated ways again. We spent a lot of time together but my destination is different from yours. You will stay in Nicomedia. The new proconsul will need a good friend and counselor he can trust in and I'm convinced you will be the right one..."

"What do you want to tell me? That you will hand me over to the new proconsul like an ordinary slave? So it's true and I'm still nothing else but a slave, am I right?"

"My dear friend, you're much more than an ordinary slave and you will come to see that your duties as a consultant of the new proconsul of Bithynia will demand much more from you than every fight you will have to fight against other immortals. Our 'Game' is not as dangerous and deadly as living at the Emperor's court with its intrigues, its traitors and its cringers."

Everything Constantinus told me appeared to me to be absolutely right and plausible but, however, at this point of time I had not the slightest idea about how my duties were supposed to look like. Of course, I knew how to handle a situation like that – I had already been the counselor of the Hyksos' King in ancient Egypt when I helped the young Pharaoh with regaining his throne – but within this moment I was not even in the know who the man might be who would move into the palace of the proconsul within just a few days to come.

Therefore I asked in a mix of curiosity and cynicism: "Before you will leave you will definitely tell me who this mysterious stranger is you want to hand me over to, won't you?"

Without giving me a reply Constantinus reached a scroll over to me. I read it not only once but certainly half a dozen times until I was sure that I got every single word right it included.

My hand sank and I asked: "Excuse me, Marcus, if I ask you this, but are you sure you're serious about this?"

My fingers clasped the scroll that tight that it nearly broke into pieces, but all Constantinus said was: "I'm not the one being serious about it but our young Emperor..."

"Oh no, Marcus, it's not that easy! Maybe you remember what I went through due to this family! You can demand everything from me but, no, not this!"

"As far as I can remember it was this young man, and only this young man, who believed in you, who spoke for you, who argued for you! He's not the one who wanted to see you die! So don't act the fool! There is no reason to air your grievances!"

"What if he will recognize me?"

"In a case like this you will tell him the truth..."

"One moment! Did I get you right? I'm meant to tell him the truth?" I snarled reluctantly and added: "Forget it, Marcus! I think there is no need to spread the truth about me being an immortal. There are a lot of other immortals out there and I'm hell-bent to avoid them finding me. Maybe it escaped your attention but I love my life and I'm not willing to change anything about this fact!"

"If I tell you that he knows who I am..."

"...it is your risk!" I beheld Constantinus with a smirk and went on while I pointed at my neck: "Can you see this, Marcus? My head sits upon this most vulnerable part of my whole body and I want it to stay there. So, therefore, I will not peddle this little secret of mine..."

"I would never demand something stupid like that! But I assure you it won't last long until you and the new proconsul will become close friends and if it is as far as this friendship might become much worthier than your immortality or every other value."

"Thank you very much! I will remember this if someone will get my head some day. The head of this runaway slave, you know, this immortal one who can only be killed if we take his head! Oh yes, thank you! Who names you his friend is not in need for enemies any more. So, once again – no!"

"You've not been the slave of his family!"

"No, of course not! I've just been the slave of his cousin and his loving wife!

"Valerius and Drusilla are dead! Their whole household is dead! There's no one left who might be able to remember you!"

I turned away without giving Constantinus another reply. He was right. Of course, he was right! And I knew it much too well...

I remembered the night when Drusilla accused me of having ravished her, when they questioned me and when a young man dared to speak for me – eagerly and passionately. And even if it had been in vain I never forgot his words, his sharp tongue and his way to speak which had been something very special even within a time where a lot of talented spellbinders used to catch their audiences.

The new proconsul of Bithynia would be no one less but the cousin of my former master:

Caius Petronius...

* * *

Only a few days later the whole city of Nicomedia seemed to be willing to welcome the new proconsul and curious to catch a glimpse of the man who would keep the fate of the Roman province Bithynia within his hands for the next two years. So it happened that already early in the morning of Petronius' arrival an impressive crowd assembled in front of the palace.

Being in the know about not being able to escape neither the encounter with Caius Petronius nor the inevitable symposium planned for the same night I preferred staying alone the rest of the day. I strolled through the lanes, paid a visit to the market and went finally down to the harbor where midst several fishing boats and merchant vessels the galley got moored to the pier which came directly from Antium and which would carry Petronius' antecessor back there within a week's time.

It must have been for hours that I stayed down at the harbor watching lost in thought what was going on – the ships getting unloaded and stowed, the continual coming and going of fishermen, slaves, soldiers and merchants and a handful of seabirds eagerly tried to catch some proper bits from the fishing boats. That lost in thought that I nearly forgot about time.

I rapidly hurried to get back to the garrison where, for sure, Marcus Constantinus was already waiting for me, when I came across a something within one of the lanes which couldn't be anything different but a daydream. A vision able to make me forget everything – the garrison, the new proconsul and the symposium.

I nearly stumbled into that beautiful daydream, not even able to murmur an excuse, while I managed with great presence of mind to keep said beautiful daydream from falling backwards.

"A thousand pardons!" I wanted my excuse to sound incidental but all I brought out was a hoarse whisper while I looked, no, stared at my counterpart.

Airy, pale yellow drapery waved within the light breeze of the late afternoon just kept by a narrow golden belt. A gentle hand and a richly adorned brooch held a cape made of golden fabric – each of them on one shoulder. Long strands of dark-brown, nearly black hair, kept and barely tamed in a skillful braid, fell down the back of this unknown beauty and while she beheld me curiously out of a pair of big brown eyes she smiled an amused smile.

Whatever or whoever she was – a dream, a nymph or a siren – I wasn't able to turn my gaze away from her and if it was true that a single gaze was able to read within a human soul then there was no escape for me anymore. She must have been able to see what was going on deep inside my innermost. I was completely at her mercy – unprotected, defenseless and totally confused about what was happening to me.

Of course, I knew what happened to me, but it felt new and strange and wonderful as if it happened to me for the first time ever...

"You are at loss for words as it seems?"

This beautiful stranger still beheld me without any hint of anger or disgust but with a certain hint of interest.

"No! I mean, yes! Maybe! I am..."

"Well, if you don't mind I will talk as long as you're on the hunt for your speech. I hope you're not on the hunt for your hearing as well. It is my first day here in Nicomedia, I just arrived with the galley you for sure saw down at the harbor. My mistress wanted me to get her some fresh fruits from the market but as it seems I lost my way within this tangle of lanes."

I cleared my throat, found a shy smile and, finally, my speech as well again and replied: "You arrived with the galley today? So you're from Rome then and you belong to the household..."

"...of the new proconsul, yes. Can you take me back to the palace? I have to be back before nightfall."

"It's about the symposium I dare to make a guess?"

She nodded obviously a bit puzzled: "Yes, indeed! Where from do you know?"

"Oh, that's an easy task. I know about it because it will also be my pleasure tonight. You will accompany your mistress and I will accompany my master..."

"You will be there? At the feast I mean?"

"I will be there. I have to be there! Oh, and maybe we will meet again. Maybe tonight?"

I had a deep look into her eyes and she did not turn her gaze away, instead she presented me with another smile and said: "Maybe! But to do so you'll have to take me to the palace first..."

After I left her in front of the palace it came to my mind that I had missed to ask her for her name...

* * *

"So you really believe you will find this girl within here? Amongst all those people?" Constantinus beheld me, wearing an amused sparkle within his eyes and a broad grin upon his lips: "You should better ask for help with the goddess of love. Otherwise it might become more than only a hopeless undertaking."

"You're not convinced I can find her?" He didn't give me a reply but took a deep draft from out of his cup. "Oh, thank you, old fellow, for your unshakable trust! Did I really name you friend throughout the bygone years? Let me think about it! How many years did I waste while staying together with you? Twenty?"

"I never said you won't find her. All I dared to say was that it is not an easy task..."

"Hopeless! That was what you named it!"

"Did I? Well, maybe I'm right! Have a look around and tell me honestly – how do you think you will find her in here...?"

"That's the way you reassure your men? Your legions? May I ask you something, Marcus? How is it that Rome still rules this empire?"

This symposium wasn't an everyday festivity and whoever was a person of distinction all around the province of Bithynia got invited to meet the new proconsul in person.

The whole hall had been decorated after Petronius' wishes and as it turned out he was a real aesthete. Nets adorned the ceiling, filled with roses and a lot of other flowers, the tables bent under the heavy weight of dishes and beverages and spread all around the whole room sat and lay the guests of this wonderful night.

Slaves scampered amongst the guests eager not to miss one single empty cup or chalice, to refill oil-lamps and fruit bowls and to keep some of the guests company throughout the night.

A group of well skilled musicians accompanied the seductive dancer whose fluent moves not only enlightened a man's inspiration but were also able to arouse a certain desire. Nevertheless I scanned the whole hall still hoping to find the face of my beautiful stranger somewhere midst the crowd – without any success.

I was close to giving in when a shadow fell upon me and Constantinus. Both of us got up just to face our host.

"Marcus Constantinus! So you waited for my arrival before you will return back to Rome?"

The pleasant dark voice with its the same soft and taunting sound had barely changed since I had listened to it for the last time – when it spoke for me to spare me from death.

What applied for his voice also applied for Caius Petronius himself. He had not changed except the fact that he had grown older and possibly wiser.

His hair was still deep black and it surrounded his face in a more than favorable way. As it seemed it was true what rumor spread – the life he lived was not able to leave its marks upon his face.

His lively dark-brown, nearly black, eyes missed less of what happened round him and the derisive and always a bit superior smile upon his lips was a friendly but determined warning to all those who wanted to make a try to match with him and his keen mind or his sharp tongue.

He owned both – the keen mind and the sharp tongue – as long as I knew him.

If it was true what Constatinus told me earlier that day the young man from a well-known family had meanwhile turned into a successful author and satirist.

Both – Constatinus and Petronius – still changed some friendly flowers of speech when the gaze of the new proconsul of Bithynia found me and I got immediately when recognition enlightened his eyes.

Petronius kept silent – of course, he knew there would remain more than enough time to ask a lot of questions and to get a lot of them answered as well.

All he said was when he turned back towards Constantinus: "I suppose this is your young friend you want me to trust in as long as Nicomedia will be my new home?"

"He is! I'm sure you will find out soon that you can trust him unconditionally."

"Unconditional trust, my dear Marcus, is a seldom and valuable gift. Back in Rome I would not know a handful of people I would trust unconditionally. I'm glad you're one of them." Petronius beheld me once again and added: "But if your young friend will prove himself worthy to be trusted in this will not only be a valuable gift for me but also for Rubia I suppose. You know my enchanting charge?"

Both of us, neither Constantinus nor I, weren't able to give him a reply. Petronius reached out his hand and waved someone to join us who hid himself within the shades of a pillar up till now.

The dress was white instead of pale yellow, the hair got tamed with a golden comb instead of a braid and a skillful worked necklace adorned a delicate neck but the gaze was the same like earlier that day within a narrow lane.

"Your mistress I dare to make a guess", I asked while pointing at Petronius.

"Your master I suppose", she returned while pointing at Constantinus.

Petronius watched us in amusement then he wrapped an arm round Constantinus' shoulders and remarked: "As it seems we're not needed here any longer. Let's turn our attention towards some more meaningful things. These two have definitely something different in mind but politics and all those annoying news I have to bother you with before you will return to Rome. Let's go and leave them for their pleasure..."

Rubia!

Her name was Rubia!

And Caius Petronius was her legal guardian...


	12. Confessions

**The Roman Empire**

**Chapter 10: Confessions**

* * *

_Methos: "You spend whatever time you have left dying...or you spend it living...with me."_

_(Highlander: TV series - from episode 'Timeless')_

* * *

**Nicomedia, Bithynia – 57 A. D.**

Unconditional trust!

Is it possible to trust somebody unconditionally?

Is it possible that someone trusts another one unconditionally?

And if the answer is yes, isn't there, nonetheless, a condition bound to said unconditional trust?

The condition of never disappoint said trust...?

At no point of time...?

Thinking of my long experience of life, I dare to claim that there is no certainty about not getting disappointed by others, or, of course, of not disappointing others. There are too manifold methods and possibilities which may lead to treason, oblivion or loss – gold, riches, malevolence, torture, mortal fear.

Even love...

I'm not quite sure if I ever really trusted another human being unconditionally. It's most probable that I not even trusted myself for a rather long time rethinking all those years I had not been certain anymore about who I really am or was or had been.

To me, being an immortal, using aliases was always, and it still is, like dressing up or masking. Hiding my real ego behind another, a faked, one. It allowed, and still allows, me to live on, to hide and to escape if necessary. So, yes, it includes a sense, and, at times, it's essential for survival. And it was exactly why I thought it might be clever and wise to join the Watchers at a certain point of time.

Working as a researcher for the Watchers, trusted with updating and investigating the so called 'Methos Chronicles', I was able to claim that I searched for Methos, meant for myself, and to make sure that no one would ever find me at the same time. I had been able to mislead them all. The Watchers had no idea that I was an immortal and I had been able to avoid others of my kind who searched for me – or better for my head.

It worked very well for years but I had never allowed the possibility that I could get caught in the middle some day. Not until that stupid fool, Kalas, started to search for me and not until my dear watcher-friend Dawson led MacLeod straight to my flat in Paris.

I got caught in the middle between the Watchers and the immortals and I got close to losing myself within this conflict. It was the worst that could happen and, of course, it happened. Well, I should have known it, but, hey, I'm nothing but a guy...

Adam Pierson!

The name of my alter ego for about nearly twenty five years now became that much a part of me that – at times – I really believed it might be possible to lead a simple life amongst mortals. Unchallenged by other immortals, far away from any duel and much farther away from losing my head or chopping other's...

Measured by those more than five thousand years I already had survived up till now I dare to claim that the number of heads I took is much lesser than the number of heads some of my younger fellows took, but as much as living a simple life amongst mortals remains a beautiful dream it also remains a beautiful dream to talk myself into believing in being able to stay off of the 'Game' and its rules in the long run.

I got caught in the middle and the rest of the trust I felt for myself got shattered as well as everything I had loved to believe in for a rather long time.

And it was not for the first time...

Since I decided to leave Kronos, Silas and Caspian, since I decided to turn my back on the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse I lived a different life. Reluctant of trusting anyone else but me, eagerly tried of letting no one know who I really was.

There was just one thing left I really wanted to believe in – unconditional love...

But did unconditional love not have the same meaning as unconditional trust...?

I should come to know soon how close both were bound together...

* * *

It felt as if the weeks have flown by since Petronius' arrival in Nicomedia.

The new Proconsul had only less time to accustom to his function and his duties, because only two days after he had accepted all the responsibilities from his leaving precursor the other boarded the galley which would take him back to Rome

During these two days the recalled Proconsul of Bithynia used every possibility to let his follower in into the secrets of this new challenge of which Petronius took note silently and with his personal kind of being attentive. Those who knew him had no doubt about him being willing to get an idea on his own of what was going on and what might be waiting for him within the province of Bithynia.

And it happened exactly like he wanted it to happen...

The galley had not yet disappeared at the horizon when Petronius already ordered a dozen messengers to be sent out to inform the commanders of the most important garrisons round the whole province that the new Proconsul had not in mind to carry on the business in the same way like his antecessor used to handle it. From the first day on he had been convinced that everything had to change, and he was hell-bent to release new rules and new guidelines about how to administrate the province he felt responsible for.

Days, weeks and months passed by – filled with audiences, hearings and visitations of dignitaries of the town of Nicomedia, of those commanders who were not willing to believe that Petronius was not joking about all those changes he had announced and of uncountable rich and new-rich inhabitants of the whole province who were curious about the man Caius Petronius and who were driven by their desire for recognition. They all wanted to see or meet the new Proconsul, wanted to get introduced to him or wanted to find out if he possibly might be buyable.

Petronius remained patient throughout all those straining weeks, tried to receive and satisfy all his visitors – well, definitely not all of them – and willing to accustom to his duties. He demanded me, being his confidant, to assist him with all his responsibilities and so it happened that the time I had left to spend it with Rubia was measured rather short.

I longed for staying alone with her and those few moments of sweet closeness we were able to share were mostly passing by too soon.

Marcus Constantinuns had warned me, before he returned to Rome, of losing myself to Rubia, of losing my heart to her but it had already been too late.

I was lost...

I was lost from the day on when I first crossed paths with her, when I stumbled into her within that narrow lane, when I kept her company during the first night we came to know each other. She was enchanting, spirited and literate and I loved listening to everything she told me that night and every day we met later on. The same time I feared I would never be allowed to court her.

How could I even dare to dream about her – me, the slave...

Keeping this in mind I buried myself amongst papers and scrolls and asked myself day in and day out if this was supposed to be the sign of confidence I was meant to accord to the new Proconsul of Bithynia – the sign of confidence Marcus Constatinuns obviously expected from me.

I got an answer to my question as soon as oil got poured on the troubled water the new man from Rome had caused.

* * *

The Summer drew to a close and the, at times, unbearable heat finally gave way again to pleasant days and mild nights. It was not that the heat and the high temperatures really bothered me – I was a child of the desert and I would remain a child of the desert as long as my life would last – but it was easier to bear both, the heat and the temperatures, while staying within the desert itself instead of staying within a densely populated town.

It was during one of those mild and warm nights of the beginning Autumn when Anaxander, the custodian of Petronius' slaves, went into my chamber shortly after I had fallen asleep just to wake me up again.

"Our master wants to see you! Immediately! He's waiting for you within his scriptorium!"

Anaxander was stern and dutiful and there was no doubt about the fact that he was aware of everything which was going on within the palace and with the slaves – the more when Petronius was not present. Of course, he was no informer, but every slave belonging to the household knew that he was much more draconic than Petronius himself when it came to penalize one of them.

Nevertheless, it was a blessing to be a slave within the household of Caius Petronius, because he never tended towards cruelty or wrongful punishment. Being a slave within his household meant to own a surprisingly lot of liberties. The only services in return he expected were dutifulness, sedulity and compliance. He was very well in the know about his slaves amusing themselves and he was willing to tolerate it as long as everyone knew and fulfilled his or her role and duty.

Therefore I hurried to follow his wish...

I found Petronius sitting at his writing desk, deep in thoughts and obviously not dealing with the Empire, its Emperor or its provinces.

He raised his head and waved me to come closer when he recognized me: "Ah! Here you are! Come closer! Come! There's no reason for standing rooted to the ground, young man. We have to talk. So, sit down if you like..."

A thousand thoughts came to my mind about what it was he wanted to talk about and why he chose me to talk about it. Into the bargain at that time of the day – it was already slightly after midnight.

Petronius tore me out of my thoughts: "Marcus Constantinus was right!"

"With what?"

I gazed at him in astonishment and, as it seemed, still a bit dozily, because Petronius smiled and explained: "Three months passed by since I arrived in Bithynia and throughout these months you proved yourself as being diligent, farseeing and discreet. You're astucious, you're aware of what to do and what to leave and you keep a sharp eye on everything happening around you. It's a stroke of luck that Constantinus found you..."

"Let's name it a stroke of luck that I ended up within your household..."

It couldn't have escaped Petronius that my words were filled with scorn and a certain hint of cynicism, but he ignored both: "Sure enough! The alternative would have been that he would have let you rot nailed to the cross until one of the guards would have found out that you're unable to die. Maybe you would have preferred this solution my dear – Lisias...!"

The way he emphasized the name confused me and I remained silent, owing him an answer. Instead of giving him a reply I stared at him out of wide open eyes and gasped for air.

Petronius beheld me slightly amused and his eyes were sparkling when he went on: "Marcus already warned me before he left that you would either make a try to keep silent about the truth – about what you are and who you are – or that you might be totally confused if I would tell you what I'm in the know about."

Oh yes, he was right!

And he had no idea about how confused I was...

Since I had already heard about the Watchers I was aware that there was a group of mortals who knew about the existence of immortals. They belonged to a secret society and swore an oath to follow us and to keep records about us and our lives without taking a hand in the 'Game' and its rules. They did not always succeed in just watching like it turned out several centuries later and their plans also never included that an immortal would join them without being recognized for years...

Petronius was neither an immortal nor was he a Watcher, but, like Esther, he seemed to be only less astonished about everything Marcus Constantinus had obviously trusted him with.

I raised my gaze and looked at him: "Totally confused, yes, I think that's how I would name it as well, but, to be honest, it's not because you're aware of what I am, but, much more, because you don't seem to be excessively shocked about the fact itself."

"Why should I be shocked? There are people spread round the whole Empire who believe in Gods, my dear friend – ours, theirs, even that their God sent his son to free them from their sins. There are people who believe in ghosts, in demons, in the supernatural. So, tell me then, why should I of all people be different? Why should I deny that there are human beings out there who are unable to die?"

"Oh, yes, I remember! You've always been superstitious, am I right? Mostly if it happened to come to your mind, if it fitted with your plans or if it was of use for you, but, as far as I remember, Caius Petronius, you've never been easy to impress."

"Maybe! Superstition can be very helpful if you have to deal with priests, courtiers or other creatures sneaking around you, but to impress me it always needed much more but Drusilla! You have not been the first who refused her and ended up nailed to a cross! And Valerius? Drusilla never loved him. She betrayed him whenever possible and so did he vice versa. They earned each other. Paradoxically it was that he trusted her whenever it came to accuse others and not even his education or his wisdom kept him from making terrible mistakes."

"You spoke for me – back then, Twenty years ago. Why?"

"Let's say I loathe any kind of dissipation and your death, my dear young friend, would not only have been dissipation but also, in addition, an incredible inanity withal..."

I thought it over for a while until I asked: "So it is true. You're aware that I cannot die, at least not in a common way. Tell me then, what else did Marcus Constantinus reveal to you about our secrets? I assume your well-bred curiosity wasn't satisfied with just learning about the existence of our kind..."

I cocked my head, curious myself about his reaction to come.

"Of course not!" Petronius replied smiling: "What do you think? But I suggest we go on with our little conversation out in the garden." He got up and lightened a lantern by his own hand. While he reached it over to me he wrapped an arm round my shoulder and continued: "Don't get me wrong. This house, this palace, looks wonderful and it may be very purposive but it is not my house so it is not to foreclose that these walls may have eyes and ears to spy me out."

We left Petronius' scriptorium and kept silent until we reached the garden.

After he had assured himself that no one was following us Petronius went on with answering my question: "Now we can speak freely. Our mutual friend, Marcus Constantinus, let me in on a lot of secrets concerning him, you and your kind. He told me that the two of you are not alone, that there are good and bad amongst your people like amongst any other people and that you all are forced to take part in a so called 'Game' which means to fight against each other until there will be only one of you left within a far and distant future. He also told me that your kind is not allowed to have children and that there is only one way to kill you..."

"And that's exactly the reason why I'm so unconditionally intent on keeping my head where it belongs", I interrupted him: "But, yes, everything is true Constantinus trusted you with. So far! We're immortal as long as we succeed in killing our rivals before they succeed in doing the same to us, as long as we're able to avoid senseless fights and as long as we can keep our real nature hidden from all too eager mortals. You know, Petronius, it's not that easy like it sounds to stay undiscovered or unchallenged. To your kind, mortals, we aren't really different from you up to that point of time when someone somewhen notices that we do not age. That is why we cannot stay on a spot for ever. If anyone figures out who we are there is no other choice but to leave everything behind. The place we loved to live in, the name we got accustomed to and the life we loved to live up till that day."

"Apart from those inconveniences I would name it a fascinating life. If I think of all the wonders you've already seen and of all the things you will come to see long after we all will have passed away. That's the stuff every philosopher and every author dreams about. With one important difference: you have seen what I can only guess and you will come to see what I can only dream..."

I turned away and remained motionless within the nightly garden for a while. What I asked myself was if I would have reacted the same like Petronius if I would have been mortal, and if someone would have told me about immortals – curious and eager for knowledge. It was idle to think about a question I still wasn't able to answer after more than three thousand years.

Another question was, what it was that made me trust this Roman, but as hard as I tried there was no answer. I just knew I could trust him and I never regretted doing so as long as I stayed in his presence.

As long as he stayed alive...

I turned round again, wearing a bitter smile upon my lips, and gave him my reply: "Yes, it is a fascinating life. Up to that day until you will find out that it is beyond your power to prevent the loss and the death of all those you love, of all those having a meaning to you. As hard as you may try it, as hard as you may wish it to save them you will lose and they all will die while you will outlive year after year, century after century. You will lose everything, again and again, while you will survive. Don't get me wrong – I love my life, I love to see and to experience all those things I'm able to see and to experience but the longer my life lasts the more intensely do I feel the sorrow about everything I lose. These things are supposed to become easier after the first few centuries, but I can assure you that's not true. The sorrow lingers on and it grows with every new loss you have to suffer..." I lowered my gaze and added: "Sometimes I fear I'm too tired to go on with the 'Game', the killing and all this stuff, but then something different happens. Something which makes me feel alive again..."

Petronius frowned and nodded: "No one will ever be able to understand what's meant who does not share the life you lead. So, therefore, I ask you for allowing me to remain curious instead of compassionate. Tell me about everything you've seen and about everyone you've met..."

His dark eyes were sparkling within the little light of the lantern and within this moment it wasn't the Proconsul of Bithynia, Caius Petronius, I kept company within the garden of the palace of Necomedia, but the author whose imagination visible started to do somersaults.

I beheld him with a grin: "I fear this one single night won't be enough to satisfy your curiosity..."

"Well, if it is that way just answer me one question. For now! How long...?"

"More than three thousand years..."

It was for the first time and for the last time ever I found Petronius left speechless for a split second and I suppose he used this split second to figure out what it meant I just told him.

He caught himself rapidly and said: "You saw cultures rise and empires fall. I guess you will even witness the downfall of Rome some day..."

"Rome won't fall as long as its people will remember its virtues."

"Believe me, no empire, no culture is meant to last forever, you should know it better than me. All you have to do is to have a look at these magnificent heirs to our glorious Emperor Augustus..."

"There is no difference to the heirs of the glorious Pharaoh Ramses II, but..." I hesitated for a moment then I added: "...there is something more important than exchanging stories about history. You're still my master, you're in the know now about the truth concerning me, you know that you have to keep this secret and I guess you know also that you earned my trust. So, I guess it's time to let you in on the secret about my real name, isn't it..."

"You don't have to, if..."

"Methos! My real name is Methos!"

"Well then, Methos! If it is your wish I will respect it. No one will ever come to know what it was we talked about tonight out here in the garden of the palace, but before we will return inside there is one thing I want you to know. You err! You're not longer my slave!" He waved me to come closer then he removed the golden clasps from my arms, the symbols of slavery I had to wear for about more than twenty years. He handed them over to me and said: "Keep them as a memory. You're free now. Free to leave or to stay with me. I cannot force you to stay, so I will leave this decision to you, but before you will let me know how your decision will look like I want you to tell me something different..."

"That would be...?"

"Do you love her?"

"What?" I cleared my throat and stared at him out of wide open eyes, totally puzzled and struggling for words to be able to give him a reply.

Without any success.

"Rubia! I want to know if you love her!"

"I..." I shyly herned and hawed...

"Do you think I'm blind to everything going on within my house? Do you think the way escaped my attention the two of you look at each other? There is only one reason why I want to know the truth: Rubia belongs to those few I really care about and I want to see her happy. I'm aware that she loves you, I guess you love her as well, but you know best that she will grow old while you won't. So, if it's true and the two of you are in love you should tell her everything about your condition. Leave her a choice..."

I felt my heart beating up to my throat and I felt torn between overwhelming joy, barely comprehensible luck and abysmally desperation.

To hear that Rubia longed for me the same like I longed for her seemed to me to be the same unreal and wonderful, but suddenly I felt doubt about her, about me and about the life we would have to live and I shook my head: "What can I say? Yes, I love her, but what else is it but an illusion? How shall it work? The charge of the Roman Proconsul Caius Petronius and the former slave. Your law forbids me to see her as a woman. You're my former master, she's your charge. This makes her my mistress..."

"Three thousand years in experience of life. Wasn't this what you told me?" Petronius provided me with a meaningful look: "Three thousand years and you're still nothing but a young fool, my dear friend! You should be wiser, means, you should not act like every other young loggerhead! What do you think why I asked you if you love her? Because I want to separate you from her? Nonsense!" He grasped amongst the pleats of his toga and handed a scroll over to me: "Take this, read it carefully and keep it. It includes every explanation you may be in need for..."

* * *

"Rubia!"

"No! Stop it! I don't want to hear another word from you! Got me!"

Rubia stood in front of me and beheld me from my brow down to my sandals, looking daggers at me which meaning could be everything. Everything from disdain over disappointment up to disbelief and dishevelment. Her fingers clasped the thin fabric of her veil that firm that she nearly tore it into pieces while she shielded her eyes against the sun using her other hand.

She panted heavily for air, her chest raised within the rhythm of her breaths and equal if she was angry at this moment she looked just adorable – with her sparkling eyes and her reddened cheeks.

Nevertheless, I did not dare to give her a reply...

My original plan had included to confess everything to her I had confessed to Petronius several nights before. Therefore I invited her to accompany me to the market and down to the harbor, hoping it would become easier for me to make this confession to her while we were both relishing candied fruits and filled olives.

I did not even succeed in finishing telling her a fraction of my story when she turned away from me shaking her head in confusion and hurrying away through the narrow lanes – down to the harbor.

Being in two minds first about what to do next I decided that I couldn't leave her alone. So I hurried to follow her hoping it was her veil which just disappeared round the next corner in front of me.

I managed to catch up with her before she reached the pier and the ships.

I grabbed her with her arm and looked into her eyes while I was panting for air: "Rubia! Wait! Please!"

"What do you want? Isn't it enough that you lied to me?" She tore herself away from me: "Do you really think there is anything left we should talk about?"

"More than you're aware of!"

"Really? Well, maybe you should listen to me first! If you want to convince me that your story is worth to be listened to it needs a bit more than just a pretty face and a an absurd fairy-tale to catch my attention..."

"It's not a fairy-tale!"

Before she was able to escape me once again, I grabbed her with her wrist and dragged her with me until we reached one of the stairs leading down to the sea. I pointed at one of the steps and said: "Please, Rubia, sit down and listen to me. I demand nothing impossible from you. Nothing but your patience and your trust. Listen to me and if my story still sounds like a fairy-tale to you in the end you're free to leave. I won't force you to stay with me. Promised! What do you say?"

She looked at me – the same skeptical, indignant and curious – but finally she nodded and sat down on the topmost step.

I had no choice left anymore if I did not want to lose her.

First I had not in mind to let Rubia in on the whole story but the longer I spoke, the longer I looked at her, sitting there in front of me, I knew I had to tell her the truth and finally the words started to flow over my lips and I wasn't able anymore to fight them back. I sat by her side and while my gaze got lost on the horizon, while the waves were rolling against the foot of the steps unremittingly and while I spread my whole being in front of the woman who had enlightened my life again since I knew her, I got aware that I never wanted to lose her.

I wanted her to learn anything about me – who I was, what I was, what I had committed and what I had missed to do. I wanted her to know that she was the one able to dispel the shadows and the emptiness which grasped for me from time to time. I wanted her to know that she had not to be afraid of me...

Somewhen later – I had no idea if only minutes of even hours did pass by – I handed the scroll over to her Petronius had presented me with: "Rubia, everything I told you is true, but if you're still doubting me have a look at this. It's a donation your uncle, your warden, wants to present us with..."

I did not dare to wait for her answer but got up determined on returning to the palace.

What was it I expected from her?

That she would give up everything for an immortal life could provide her with if she would choose a mortal?

Getting old together, giving birth to children, settling down in some enchanting place at the coast or midst the mountains...

All I could give her was my love – nothing else!

No certainty, no safety, no guarantee that I would return to her if another immortal would challenge me...

Which right did I have to demand everything from her just to give her - what?

Me...?

"Methos!" Rubia tore me out of my thoughts.

She called me back!

I turned round and what I saw felt so impossibly right. She stood beside the steps, bathed in sunlight while the slight breeze coming from the sea was playing with her veil and some strands of her hair having escaped her braid. Her arms were wrapped around her body and a single tear ran down her cheek, over her chin and down her narrow throat...

"Wait!" The scroll lay within her trembling hand and as it seemed she wasn't sure if she should laugh or cry: "Do you really want this? Do you really want me?"

Her question was just a silent whisper but I wasn't in need to hear it to know what it meant. Only a few steps separated her from me, just a blink of an eye and I dragged her in my arms. I felt her warmth when she nestled up against me, I scented her hair and I touched her soft skin. After having relished that moment of sweet closeness I cupped her cheeks with my hands and looked into her eyes: "Of course I want it, and, yes, I want you..."

"I will grow old, my beauty will vanish. I cannot believe you will still want me then. If you're still young and pretty and I'm withered..."

"I will endure it as long as it lasts if you will just let me endure it..."


	13. Summernights in Cumae

**The Roman Empire**

**Chapter 11: Summernights in Cumae**

* * *

_Eunice: "Fearful is my soul here as I lie in the arms of my love. Heart beating on heart through the night. Why is it that we're knowing intimate love must die? Why is it that intimate love has to die? Oh immortal Venus, Queen of Love, save us..."_

_('Invocation to Venus' from 'Quo Vadis' – 1951)_

* * *

**Cumae, Campania – 59 A. D.**

Immortality!

I had asked myself for a rather long time, if I should take my immortality as an acceptable gift I could use to learn, to travel and to grow wiser throughout the centuries, or if it would turn out to become a torment the longer it would last – from decade to decade and from century to century.

Now, after more than five millennia, I can say that there is still no explicit answer to this question. At least, no answer which is supposed to be able to satisfy me completely or to let me have a guess what my immortality and the 'Game' are really about.

Maybe there will never be an explicit answer...

If I think of everything I was allowed to see and to experience, of all those countries, locations and places I was allowed to visit and to go to, of all the beauty and the wonders which revealed to me, I have to admit that my life and my immortality have always been a gift.

If I think of all the people I crossed paths with – poor and rich, common and powerful, men and women – of everything they shared with me and of everything they allowed me to share with them, I have no doubt that my life and my immortality are not only a gift but something I should never doubt.

Philosophers, authors, musicians have been amongst them, the same as emperors and kings, priests and prophets, slaves and free.

They all touched me in a different way, they impressed me, they annoyed me – everyone of them in his or her own and very unique way. They all shared their thoughts, their wishes, their dreams and their passion with me and they accompanied me on my way through five thousand years of history.

Some of them only for a few days, some of them for years or decades, some of them for centuries and some of them I do not remember any more...

Not even the diary I keep since the invention of writing would do to note all the names of those who stepped in my way on my long lasting journey through time and over all known continents.

To be honest – a lot of names, faces and events start to blur and I'm barely able to remember them all, although I keep my diary...

Nevertheless they still exist – somewhere within my innermost...

What else can I say?

That my life, throughout the years, was always an acceptable gift to me when I was able to forget that there was a difference between those whose life I was allowed to share?

That my life was always an acceptable gift to me when, beside all those great adventures, those unforgettable moments I was allowed to experience, something different mingled in, something still, something much bigger, something much more important?

Something named love...

The most wonderful, the most painful and the most fulfilling feeling life can provide us with.

Oh yes, my life and my immortality are an acceptable gift...

Those who know me sometimes ask me if there are things I regret while thinking of my life and everything I committed and experienced.

Of course, there are things I regret, but they have nothing to do with those years I spent as one of the Four Horsemen.

What I definitely regret are all those wasted opportunities if it came to spend some pleasurable nights with all those beauties I crossed paths with throughout the centuries, although I never regretted not to be the one who used to break a woman's heart with levity.

I rather fear it was me who mostly lost another part of himself whenever I gave my heart away, because losing the one I loved always meant the same moment losing another shard of a once again broken heart...

Thinking of the women who succeeded in captivating me and my attention, I can say they all had been mortal – all of them, except Cassandra – and whenever I lost one of them there remained nothing but emptiness, sorrow and grief – until another gaze, another touch or another smile made me believe in love and bliss again.

Until they made me forget my losses for a while...

The losses...

The sorrow and the grief about all the losses of my long life...

They are what turns my immortality and my life into a barely sufferable torment from time to time, the same as my unsatisfiable wish to retire from the 'Game' and to withdraw from all the other immortals who might challenge me or who I might be forced to face.

Far too often I saw those die who had a meaning to me, those who might have earned a long lasting life, and far too often I saw those survive for centuries whose death might have been a blessing, but it was not me who was meant to make a decision about living and dying – not any more...

To know this, to be confronted with it day after day, year after year wears me out. I'm tired and the fire which is meant to blaze inside of every human being seems to have expired long ago.

Sometimes I long for these endlessly long five thousand years to finally find an end and with them the fights, the uncertainty and the gnawing question if I could be the one who might be meant to survive the 'Game', but then, within the same moment it is not death which finds me, but another smile, another gaze, another touch and with them the memory why it is that I still love my life that much...

* * *

Normally I had always enough time to either retire or to prepare for an upcoming fight as soon as I realized the presence of another immortal close to me.

The strange feeling – half electrifying, half threatening – is inexpressible in words and barely to describe. It pervades any immortal, unnoticed by those who are not aware of the feeling itself and who are unable to sense it anyway and there is no possibility to find out if it is a friend or an enemy who approaches.

Mostly I preferred to retire, mostly I had enough time to avoid the fight...

This time I had no time to think about any of these alternatives...

Not to find out who the stranger was whose presence I sensed, not to retire unnoticed and unchallenged and not to prepare for the fight.

Much more following my instincts but every experience I ever had gained up till today, I succeeded in warding off the sudden flourish which, without any doubt, would have done to separate my head from my shoulders with one clean cut.

Therefore, both, the impetus and with it the attack of my unknown opponent, were in vain, much to the surprise of said offender, and provided me with that one single moment I needed to finally gather myself.

With my feet buried in the loose sand and keeping the sinking sun within my back I did not wait until the other recovered from his surprise. I would have been a fool if I would have allowed him to attack me once again without defending myself in the best way I knew.

I was very well aware that, if I wanted to stay alive, there were only a few things which were able to save me – swiftness, slyness and a wide awake mind.

And I had to stay alive!

By all means...

My hands were aching from strain while I used my blade to sustain the powerful and not less determined strikes of my opponent and with every new strike I feared my wrists might give in due to the violence the other attacked me with and due to the brute intentness he lunged at me with.

My lungs were burning and I felt my heart beating against my chest within a wild and rapid rhythm while I dived through under the excellently led blade of that stranger, who still made no effort to reveal his identity to me. All I came to know was that he was hell-bent to kill me, and while I was thinking about a solution, how to get rid of said unwelcome situation I found myself within, the handle of his sword hit my brow with the whole vehemency of his next strike.

The next I felt was a white-hot pain running through my head.

For a split second everything around me and in front of my eyes seemed to explode within a flash of black and red and there was only one thought I was able to think about:

I didn't want to die – not here and not now...

_The hint of a breeze waved over from the sea and made me forget the summerly heat which not even spared the palace of the Proconsul of Bithynia in Nicomedia from its paralyzing effects. _

_In spite of the heat the whole palace was filled with brisk activity and the slaves hurried to prepare the hall which was normally meant to welcome clients and petitioners for a nightly festivity. The whole room was already adorned with nets filled with flowers, with garlands, colorful ribbons and uncountable candles and lights._

_Everything was arranged for a very special evening meal, a symposium whereto only chosen guests were invited. Guests, Caius Petronius trusted in and of whom he was convinced that their presence promised an evening full of ingenious conversation and cultivated amusement._

_To me this summer night was supposed to have a different meaning. It was meant to spend it together with a beautiful woman. Drunk from the sweet scent of roses, the taste of spiced wine, and soft and gentle touches. Captured by promising gazes, carried away from passionate kisses and nestled up against the warm and tender body of the one I loved..._

_This was what I dreamt about when I stood within the hall, it was what I impatiently waited for, what I longed for. Until a silent move behind me caused me to turn around..._

The blade of my enemy missed my head by a hair's breadth and while I jumped back the tip of his sword just scratched my chest and left a bloody mark behind. I let out a curse and prepared for his next strike.

Heavily panting for air I blocked said next strike with the handle of my sword, being very well in the know that there was less than nothing I had to subtend against this battle-tested giant.

Nothing but my keen mind...

If I wanted to survive I had to recollect this keen mind...

While I intently kept taps on him my left felt for the narrow dagger, Esther's dagger, I still carried with me and which had saved my life more than once within the bygone centuries, but as if he anticipated this next step of mine the stranger grabbed me with my wrist and twisted it until my fingers gave in to the merciless force which left me no other choice but to let go of the small blade.

A well-directed kick from my opponent brought the dagger far enough out of reach that I would only be able to pick it up if I would turn my back on him which would have had the same meaning but to hand my life over to him on a silver platter.

In a mix of desperation and the will to survive I squirmed under his firm grip until I succeeded in freeing myself. I dragged my sword away and drew it back for a strike which would have meant the death of any other enemy but this immortal warded it off effortlessly.

I stared at him in disbelief, out of wide open eyes and hardly able to use my blade to shield my head when his next attack came that violently that it tore my sword out of my hands. He used my confusion and slapped my face hard with the back of his hand.

The slap tossed me face down into the sand. I tasted blood on my tongue and once again everything became blurred in front of my eyes as if a veil of darkness and oblivion wrapped me in...

_She was enwrapped in flames. At least this was the illusion the blazing red robe caused she wore atop her simple tunic. Close to the hem, the red turned into orange and yellow and the light of the candles and lanterns made her glow and shine herself as if the light did not illuminate her from outside but from her innermost while she slowly crossed the feastful decorated hall. On bare feet and accompanied by the benevolent gazes of the guests._

_Her long dark hair got skillfully plaited into several braids and the same skillful it got pinned up by Petronius' light-handed slaves. A veil made of some kind of orange colored nothingness got attached to the enchanting shape of the hair and flew over her shoulders down to her feet until it reached the floor._

_Her sight was captivating, she looked like a miracle, but despite all of this skillful pinned up hair, this flaming dress and that flimsy veil her shining eyes and the sweet smile she wore upon her lips would have been enough to make me the most contented man throughout the whole Roman Empire within this night..._

I succeeded in getting rid of the overwhelming numbness which still kept me in its claws, but when I tried to raise up to my knees, determined to crawl over to my sword or, at least, to my dagger another hit met my back between my shoulder blades. I collapsed again, gasping for air, tried to avoid inhaling sand.

The stranger knelt down by my side. One of his knees settled upon my back, pressing me into the sand. His left rested upon the handle of his sword while he buried his right within my hair. He dragged my head up with my hair that ruthless that I nearly feared he wanted to break my neck before he would take my head and finally end my life.

His voice close to my ear was icily and did not include a single hint of emotion: "If there is a god you believe in, you should hurry now to send a last prayer up to him, before I will sacrifice you to mine!"

"Go to hell, bastard", I hissed: "you should feel glad that you caught me by surprise! Otherwise..."

"Otherwise what", the other taunted: "You're no challenge for me! You're not even a warrior!"

He underestimated me!

That was more than welcome and I picked up courage to give him my response: "Maybe I'm not, but who knows. Who knows if you are a warrior. Maybe you're nothing but a murderer..."

While I tried to draw the attention of my enemy completely to my words I concentrated the whole strength I was still able to find inside me to reach the dagger, but it seemed to be a hopeless venture. I sighed inwardly and hoped I would be able to gain some more time before I would die...

I wasn't prepared for dying!

I had not in mind to end up as a loot for this merciless immortal!

I wanted to spend this wonderful summer night within the arms of a beautiful woman. In the arms of my beautiful wife...

Maybe it was this heartfelt wish I kept inside me which turned my desperation into the iron will not to give in and into the strength to push this stranger aside and get rid of him for only a few seconds.

Half way crawling on my knees, half way stumbling through the sand I finally succeeded in reaching and picking up the dagger.

My fingers clasped its handle that firm that I barely felt them any more. They were trembling when the stranger caught up with me and pushed me backwards into the sand again. He grimaced with an evil smirk upon his lips and bent down to me. I knew this would be my only chance to act if I wanted to survive, so I took a deep breath and pushed the blade up to its handle into my enemy's chest.

He was an immortal like me and I knew he would recover rapidly. Therefore I stumbled to my feet and picked up my sword before the other would overcome his surprise.

Totally out of breath and barely with conscience I glared at the stranger and hissed: "Who is it now, who should send a prayer up to his gods? Maybe your's will welcome you! Now!"

The last light of the sinking sun got mirrored within the blade of my sword when I brought this fight to an end. I felt no regret, no pity for my opponent. Within this split second I was Death once again and to my surprise it still felt right – even after all those centuries having passed by since I had left Kronos and my 'brothers'...

Maybe this was another reason why I preferred to avoid the 'Game' and the fights...

Fortunately it was not the only reason and I was still alive...

_Her hand was trembling when she handed the quill over to me after she had signed the contract. When I took it I hoped I would be able to stay calm, but as it turned out I was as nervous as she was about everything which would wait for us after this ceremony would be completed later this night._

_Petronius smiled a contented smile when he put her hand in mine and while our gazes melted into each other we changed the plain golden rings with still trembling fingers. _

_We were bound together now by this small but strong symbol of love, truth and trust and although it was not the first wedding ceremony I went through within the bygone centuries it was still a sacred moment for me._

_The more when she looked at me and whispered: "Where thou art Gaius, I shall be Gaia."_

_I responded as the ceremony requested: "Where thou art Gaia, I shall be Gaius."_

The sword I kept within my hand seemed to get heavier and heavier with every single moment. Exhausted as I was I still panted for air while a shimmering haze welled up from the lifeless body in front of me and started to wrap me in.

The forerunner of the quickening…

Much worse than to sense another immortal, much worse than the fight itself, always was and always will be the quickening to me which follows a won fight…

The moment when the whole knowledge, every single memory and the inimitable essence of the taken life, the life of my immortal enemy, turns into pure energy to become mine, together with the whole knowledge, all those memories and the uncountable essences of those lives my opponent had taken up to the day when we met, is always a mix of pain, ecstasy and vulnerability…

Sometimes this moment becomes a nearly unbearable torment, a torment which is not meant to come to an end until I will lie on my knees – exhausted, troubled because of everything which overwhelmed me, barely with conscience and hardly able to move.

It's the price we all have to pay for our immortality, this unwanted donation life presented us with, is high and none of us is able to guess how many memories we may be able to bear.

Some immortals are enjoying this moment when they become one with their vanquished rivals.

Addicted to the feeling of might and power they experience during the quickening.

Addicted to the ecstasy like to a drug…

I knew both, the ecstasy as well as the feeling of might – and the pleasure its combination once caused me…

When the quickening was over I gave in to my momentarily weakness with a sigh of relief.

I won this fight because I had to. I won this fight for her…

"Rubia…"

* * *

"Leave us alone!"

Rubia clapped her hands and dismissed the slave girls who were serving us with the evening meal the same night.

Up till that moment she had just stared at the plate standing in front of her on the desk and sipped at her wine. Silently and deep in thoughts. As soon as the two girls had withdrawn she raised her head and beheld me.

Her gaze scanned my face insistently. Possibly she wished to find just a slight hint that the fight I had with that unknown immortal had really taken place only a few hours ago, but the bruises and the cuts I had still suffered from and which had been still visible when I returned home were already healing. The latest with sunrise the next day they would have been vanished completely.

After a while she cleared her throat with a deep sigh and remarked with a forced smile: "Don't you think as well that I already should have gotten used to it? After two years as your wife? To the fact that you will always return to me! To the fact that you will always keep the promises you make to me! To the fact that your wounds will always heal as severe as they possibly may be! But I have not!" She lowered her gaze and started waveringly to turn her goblet within her hands: "What if I will wait for you in vain some day?"

This question was the one which ran like a golden thread through my life like the thread of Ariadne through the maze of the legendary Minotaur.

With one essential difference.

Ariadne's thread had been meant to lead her beloved Theseus out of the deadly trap and back to his beloved while the golden thread of my life wasn't meant to lead me out of the trap I found myself caught within. All I would ever be able to give Rubia was a vague answer to her question, an answer that would neither please myself.

I grabbed her by her wrist and replied with a resigning undertone within my words: "If ever another immortal should defeat me, you will...feel it. You will know it..."

Rubia smiled a bitter smile: "That's a cold comfort to me, isn't it? To know, not just to guess, without any doubt that the man I love will die if he ever looses a fight against one of his kind..."

"You're aware of what and who I am..."

"Methos!" Rubia sat up: "That is not what I wanted to tell you. I do not doubt you! Do you think I would have decided to become your wife without having been very well aware of the rules, without having understood the rules of your life and of mine? No! I would not have been that stupid! And, yes! I love you and I'm happy although I know what could happen to you and what will happen to me some day. But", she hesitated and bit her lip before she went on: "I'm not only your wife, Methos, I'm also a Roman and Petronius raised me as a Roman. Proud and courageous..."

"That you are, my love, I would never doubt it..." I let my fingers caress her cheek and remarked with a smile: "Petronius was not only a caring warden but an excellent mentor as well..."

"Maybe!" Rubia interrupted herself as if she had to gather herself. She let out another deep sigh before she answered: "What I tried to explain to you is... If there ever should come the day where I will lose you we won't be separated for long..."

I sat up as well and beheld her for a while – surprised and honestly concerned...

Could she really be serious about her words?

She was a Roman and, of course, she was not only lovely and intelligent, but also proud and courageous. Petronius had raised her as an image of himself not caring about the fact that she was a girl. She was used to speak her mind and never hesitated with doing so, the more when something was meant to court her resentment or when something displeased her. The brilliant author and cynic had even heartened her to write her own poems and words.

This was rather uncommon and even within the more or less broad-minded Roman Empire it was not taken as a matter of course but it was not what concerned me.

What concerned me was, what Rubia wanted to tell me:

That she was willing to end her life by her own hand if I should ever lose mine...

I lived already for too long in Rome and its provinces. Therefore I knew that suicide was a suitable way to save your honor, the honor of your family or as an honorable possibility to anticipate a death sentence.

It was a decision which required courage as well as determination.

Rubia owned both but I didn't want her to waste her life willingly just because I might possibly lose a fight of the perfidious 'Game' I was bound to like every other immortal...

Tried not to let her sense my unease I explained: "There is no need to end your life, my brave and lovely Roman, even if mine might be over some day. You own just this one single life and as soon as you will have wasted it there is no one out there who is able to bring you back."

"That is true, but tell me, am I not the mistress of my life as much as I am the mistress of my heart? I love you! Tell me, of which sense my life would consist if I had to live on with a broken heart?"

I did not dare to give her a reply, because I knew the answer to her question much too well...

Images and memories appeared in front of me when I closed my eyes.

Most of them pleasing, some of them as if I had experienced them just a few days ago and some of them painful.

Images and memories of Cassandra, of Esther, of Nebet* and of Ruth*...

Cassandra, who I had loved without having been aware of it and who would never be able to forgive the betrayal I had committed when I left her to Kronos...

Esther, the beautiful daughter of the nomads, who changed my life in every aspect ever thinkable, who made me longing for a different life far away from killing and slaughter, who rather preferred to die than to live on with the shame Kronos did to her and who I still missed desperately...

Nebet*, the slave one of the cruel Princes of the Hyksos presented me with when I stayed at their court, the slave who taught me that true beauty never depended on a perfect body or a perfect face, the slave who I loved and who I had to kill by my own hand to spare her from merciless torture and indescribable torment...

Ruth*, the lovely Watcher, who taught me a lot about the 'Game', its rules and other immortals, who let me in on the secrets of the Watchers, whose trust and love I had been able to win until she died within my arms after a long life full of love and happiness...

No, I did not want to lose Rubia – by no means, equal if I was aware of the truth which would wait for us some day!

Therefore I bent over to her, dragged her closer and whispered next to her ear: "Trust me, Rubia, I promise, I will stay together with you up till that day when your last breath will flee your sweet lips and when your soul will return to the circle of life. It won't matter where or when it will happen..."

"How can you make a promise you won't be able to keep?"

"Because I will keep it! And the reason why I will keep it is the lovely but stubborn Roman who keeps me company tonight with my evening meal, who shares my days and my nights and who means everything to me..."

My gaze caught hers and I beheld her for a while, her hazel colored eyes, her well shaped body, and I let my fingers slip over her slightly opened lips before I buried them within her dark hair and pulled her into a passionate kiss.

Rubia wrapped her arms around me as if there would be no tomorrow to wait for us and within this moment I knew why I loved her, why I desired her. She was the same passionate and endearing as she was demanding. Her beauty was real, no made up and powdered mask like many Roman ladies – young as well as aged – used to prefer at this time hoping they may resemble the new Empress – Poppaea Sabina.

No, there was no other to me. Not throughout the whole Roman Empire.

I beheld her face, wanted to keep taps on her reaction when I dragged her closer, when my hands ran down her shoulders and her back until they reached her hips. I wanted to hear her sigh when I dragged her upon my lap and when I let my lips follow my eager fingers...

Her eyes got dark from desire and I felt her heart beating under my touch while she nestled up against me and while she responded to every touch, to every kiss the same deep and longing as I spoiled her with.

Rubia let it happen willingly that I seduced her while at the same time she was the one who seduced me as well and made me forget everything – the time, the place and the here and now...

* * *

I was still hungry even though not for the leftovers of the evening meal which lay still spread over the whole table but for the miracle which lay within my arms, panting for air and covered with sweat.

Her arms wrapped round my body and her legs wound around my hips Rubia relished every move, every touch and every kiss I was able to find to cause her some more pleasure with.

I kissed a last drop of honey away from her sweet lips as well as from the not less sweet tips of her well-formed breasts. Her hair flew down her back, soft and like a cloud and the way she gazed at me made me wish time to stand still forever. To watch how she closed her eyes, how she surrendered to me, full of trust, how she presented me with her love was beyond words.

My desire to taste her lips again, my want to feel her skin under my curious hands again and my longing to feel her as close to me and as deep as possible was exhilarating like new wine.

To watch her was a delight full of relish, to pass away in a pleasurable doze within her arms and in dulcet exhaustion was a privilege and to hear her breath slowly calm down was a gift.

My head rested upon one of my hands, one of my legs still wrapped round her tender body, I beheld Rubia within the soft light of the candles and let my fingers trace the fine lines of her face.

I kissed her temple and grinned: "Maybe I should sacrifice a dozen white doves as thanks for Marcus Constantinus that he persuaded me to stay with Petronius in Nicomedia as his intimate. What do you think, lovely daughter of Venus? Do you agree?"

"No! There is no reason to spill blood because of me." She looked at me out of wide open eyes and asked: "Do you really believe our Gods care about the sorrow and the misery of those who are praying for them?"

"No! I don't!" I was barely able to restrain a laugh: "So what to do then with the dozen white doves? Feed them with the breadcrumbs which will remain of our table?"

"For example! You're reading my thoughts. But", Rubia raised upon her elbow as well: "tell me, while we were talking about Gods. Do you believe in them?"

"I never claimed that I do, did I? Well, I think I also never claimed that I do not! But how is it that a proud daughter of the Romans doubts the Gods of her ancestors?"

"It's the legacy of my uncle. Petronius says Gods are an invention of men, an invention to spread fear, an invention to control people. And although he's kind of superstitious he does not believe in Gods. You know him. He's a cynic, a skeptic. He taught me to think, not to believe."

"I guess he's right. Without any doubt. But we should better beware of refusing those from believing in Gods who want to believe in them. You know, I'm not really fond about possibly ending within the arena some day to serve as an amusement during the games. I dare to claim, the lions would be the winner in a case like that. So, for my sake they may all believe in whatever they want to."

"Petronius will be stoked to hear such wise words from you." Rubia laughed and added: "I got news from Nicomedia. Petronius will return to Rome before the summer is over. His time as Proconsul of Bithynia is over and he's chosen as the new Consul of Rome."

"Does he already know about this new honor?"

"He does and I guess he does not really feel happy about this decision. As far as I know him he will be glad if this year is finally over..."

"Petronius is a far-seeing man. Why is he that reluctant if it comes to take over an office or a duty the Senate wants to entrust him with?"

"There is only one thing, my beloved uncle hates more than false Gods, crooked priests and sanctimonious beliefs..."

"And that would be?"

"Politics!"

"Although he's aware how to handle this business like no one else I know?"

"You will learn to understand him when we will accompany him to Rome this autumn. But now, my pretty love, let us think about something different..."

Before I was able to give her another reply she covered my lips with a passionate kiss and made me forget politics and all the Gods of the known world...

* * *

***Authors Note:**

**Who wants to know who Nebet is and why Methos has no other possibility but to kill her should read the amazing novel "Highlander: The Captive Soul" by Josepha Sherman.**

**The notes about Ruth, the Watcher, I found within a timeline of Methos while having been on research for some background information about his life. **


End file.
